h».  com. 

FRENCH’S  STANDARD  DRAMA. 


JESSIE  BROWN, 

;a  drama,  in  three  acts. 

BY  DION  BOURCICAULT. 

TO  WHICH  ABB  AODKD 

A  description  of  the  Costume — Ohst  of  the  Characters — Entrances  and  Exits— 
Belativa  Positions  of  the  Performers  on  the  stage,  and 
the  whole  of  the  Stage  Business. 


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BILLETED 


A  comedy  in  3  acts,  by  F.  Tennison  Jesse  and  H.  Harwood.  4  n 
5  females.  One  easy  interior  scene.  A  charming  comedy,  constri 
with  uncommon  skill,  and  abounds  with  clever  lines.  Margaret  Anj 
big  success.  Amateurs  will  find  this  comedy  easy  to  produce  and  poj 
with  all  audiences.  Price,  60  ( 

NOTHING  BUT  THE  TRUTH. 

A  comedy  in  3  acts.  By  James  Montgomery.  5  males,  6  females, 
fcumes,  modern.  Two  interior  scenes.  Plays  2x/2  hours. 

Is  it  possible  to  tell  the  absolute  truth — even  for  twenty-four  hours?  Il 
at  least  Bob  Bennett,  the  hero  of  “Nothing  But  the  Truth,”  accomplishec 
feat.  The  bet  he  made  with  his  business  partners,  and  the  trouble  he  got  i 
with  ,  his  partners,  his  friends,  and  his  fiancee — this  is  the  subject  of  W: 
Collier’s  tremendous  comedy  hit.  “Nothing  But  the  Truth”  can  be  whole-heai 
recommended  as  one  of  the  most  sprightly,  amusing  and  popular  comedies 
this  country  can  boast.  Price,  60  ( 

IN  WALKED  JIMMY. 

A  comedy  in  4  acts,  by  Minnie  Z.  Jaffa.  10  males,  2  females  (alth< 
any  number  of  males  and  females  may  be  used  as  clerks,  etc.) 
interior  scenes.  Costumes,  modern.  Plays  2}/2  hours.  The  thing 
which  Jimmy  walked  was  a  broken-down  shoe  factory,  when  the  c 
had  all  been  fired,  and  when  the  proprietor  was  in  serious  contempl; 
of  suicide. 

Jimmy,  nothing  else  but  plain  Jimmy,  would  have  been  a  mysterious  i 
had  it  not  been  for  his  matter-of-fact  manner,  his  smile  and  his  everla 
humanness.  He  put  the  shoe  business  on  its  feet,  won  the  heart  of  the 
clerk,  saved  her  erring  brother  from  jail,  escaped  that  place  as  a  perm; 
boarding  house  himself,  and  foiled  the  villain. 

Clean,  wholesome  comedy  with  just  a  touch  of  human  nature,  just  a  da 
excitement  and  more  than  a  little  bit  of  true  philosophy  make  “In  Walked  Jir 
one  of  the  most  delightful  of  plays.  Jimmy  is  full  of  the  religion  of  life 
religion  of  happiness  and  the  religion  of  helpfulness,  and  he  so  permeate 
atmosphere  with  his  “religion”  that  everyone  is  happy.  The  spirit  of  optii 
good  cheer,  and  hearty  laughter  dominates  the  play.  There  is  not  a  dull  me 
in  any  of  the  four  acts.  We  strongly  recommend  it.  Price,  60  ( 

MARTHA  BY-THE-DAY. 

i 

An  optimistic  comedy  in  three  acts,  by  Julie  M.  Lippmann,  authc 
the  “Martha”  stories.  5  males,  5  females.  Three  interior  scenes, 
tumes  modern.  Plays  2x/2  hours. 

It  is  altogether  a  gentle  thing, >  this  play.  It  is  full  of  quaint  humor, 
fashioned,  homely  sentiment,  the  kind  that  people  who  see  the  play  will 
and  chuckle  over  tomorrow  and  the  next  day. 

Miss  Lippmann  has  herself  adapted  her  very  successful  book  for  stage  se 
and  in  doing  this  has  selected  from  her  novel  the  most  telling  incidents,  infec 
comedy  and  homely  sentiment  for  the  play,  and  the  result  is  thoroughly  delig 

Price,  60  ( 

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New  and  Explicit  Descriptive  Catalogue  Mailed  Free  on  Request 


§0OTramlt’s  gramafe  c&lorhs. 

FORMING  THE  REPERTOIRE  OF 

MISS  AGNES  ROBERTSON. 

No.  VI. 


JESSIE  BROWN; 

OR, 

THE  RELIEF  OF  LUCKNOW 

grama,  in  ®lj«t  gRs. 


(FOUNDED  ON  AN  EPISODE  IN  THE  INDIAN  REBELLION.) 


BY 


AUTHOR  OF 

London  Assurance,  Old  Heads  and  Young  Hearts,  The  Irish  Heiress,  Used  Up,  The 
Corsican  Brothers,  Love  and  Money,  The  Willow  Copse,  The  Life  of  an  Actress, 
The  Phantom,  Andy  Blake,  The  Chameleon.  Victor  and  Hortense,  Genevieve, 

The  Young  Actress,  Louis  the  Eleventh,  The  Knight  of  Arva,  Faust  and 
Marguerite,  Janet  Pride,  George  D'Arville,  The  Poor  of  New  York, 
Belphegor,  Napoleon’s  Old  Guard,  Love  in  a  Maze,  Alma  Mater, 

A  Lover  by  Proxy,  Don  Caesar  de  Bazan,  The  Invisible 
Husband,  Sixtus  the  Fifth,  The  Priina  Donna,  Bluebelle, 

The  Cat  Changed  into  a  Woman,  Una,  The  Fox 
Hunt,  &c.,  &c.,  & c. 


Intered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  One  Thousand  Eight  Hundred  and  Fifty  Eight 
by  Dion  Bouroioault,  iu  the  Clerk’s  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  Stale* 
for  •'“>  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


New  York 

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PUBLISHER 

25  WEST  45TH  STREET 


London 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  Ltd. 
26  Southampton  Street 
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CAST  OF  CHARACTERS. — [Jessie  Bbowjt.] 


Wallack's  Theatre ,  1858. 

The  Nana  Sahtb,  Rajah  of  Bithoor,  -  Mr.  Bourcicault. 
Achmet,  his  Vakeel,  -----  Mr.  H.  B.  Phillips. 

Randal  McGregor,  )  Officers  in  the  Eng-  4  Mr.  Lester. 

Geordie  McGregor,  )  lish  Service,  \  Mr.  A.  H.  Davenport. 

Rev.  David  Blount,  Chaplain  32nd  Regiment,  Mr.  W.  R.  Blake. 
Sweenie,  a  Private,  32d  Regiment,  -  -  Mr.  T.  B.  Johnston. 

Cassidy,  a  Corporal,  32d  Regiment,  -  Mr.  Sloan. 

Soldiers,  Highlanders,  Sepoys,  and  Hindoo  Servants . 

Jessie  Brown,  a  Scotch  Girl,  -  -  -  Miss  Agnes  Robertson, 

Amy  Campbell,  ------  Mrs.  Hoey. 

Charlie  and  Effie,  her  Children,  -  -  Misses  Reeves. 

Alice,  -------  Mrs.  Allen. 

Mary,  -------  Mrs.  H.  B.  Phillips. 

Ladies  and  Children. 

The  Scene  is  laid  at  Lucknow,  in  the  Province  of  Oude,  in  India 
Time — The  Summer  of  1857. 


An  Act  supplemental  to  an  Act  entitled  “An  Act  to  amend  the  several  acts  respect - 

ing  Copyright ,”  approved  February  third,  eighteen  hundred  and  thirty-one - 

Be  it  enacted  by  the  Senate  and  House  of  Representatives  of  the  United  States 
of  America  in  Congress  assembled.  That  any  copyright  hereafter  granted  under  the 
larva  of  the  United  States  to  the  author  or  proprietor  of  any  dramatic  composition, 
designed  or  suited  for  public  representation,  shall  be  deemed  and  taken  to  confer 
upon  the  said  author  or  proprietor,  his  heirs  or  assigns,  along  with  the  sole  right  to 
print  and  publish  the  said  composition,  the  sole  right  also  to  act,  perform,  or  repre¬ 
sent  the  same,  or  cause  it  to  be  acted,  performed,  or  represented,  on  any  stage  or 
public  place  during  the  whole  period  for  which  the  copyright  is  obtained  ;  ar.d  any 
manager,  actor,  or  other  person  acting,  performing  or  representing  the  said  compo¬ 
sition,  without  or  against  the  consent  of  the  said  author  or  proprietor,  his  heirs  or 
assigns,  shall  be  liable  for  damages  to  be  sued  for  and  recovered  by  action  on  the 
case  or  other  equivalent  remedy,  with  costs  of  suit  in  any  court  of  the  United 
States,  such  damages  in  all  cases  to  be  rated  and  assessed  at  such  sum  not  less  than 
one  hundred  dollars  for  the  first,,  and  fifty  dollars  for  every  subsequent  performai— e, 
as  to  the  court  having  cognizance  ther^/f  shall  appear  to  be  just:  Provided 
nevertheless,  That  nothing  herein  enacted  shall  impair  any  right  to  act,  perform,  or, 
represent  a  dramatic  composition  as  aforesaid,  which  right  may  have  been  acquired, 
or  shall  in  future  be  acquired  by  any  manager,  actor,  or  other  person  previous  to 
the  secuiing  of  the  copyright  for  the  said  c  imposition,  or  to  restrict  in  any  way  the 
right  of  such  author  to  process  in  equity  in  ;\ny  court  of  the  United  States  for  the 
better  and  further  enforcement  of  his  rights 

Approved,  August  18,  1856. 

Notice. — Any  manager  permitting  this  work  to  be  performed  in  his 
theatre,  without  the  written  permissi  m  of  the  Author,  is  liable  to  a 
penalty  of  not  less  than  one  hundred  dollars  for  each  >erformance — 
in  conformity  with  the  new  Copyright  Act  as  above. 


,i  tt  s  S  1  E  BROWN 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  I. —  The  Exterior  of  the  Bungalo  of  Mrs.  Campbell — Luck¬ 
now  in  the  distance.  Table  laid  on  r.  ii.  side,  under  a  tree ,  with 
viands  upon  it.  Native  servants  in  attendance. 

Music. — Enter  Geordie  McGregor,  with  Alice  and  Mart.  Enter 

Achmet  from  the  house. 

Geor.  Here  we  are  at  last.  What  can  induce  Mrs.  Campbell  to  live 
a  mile  from  Lucknow  1 

Alice.  You  are  a  pretty  soldier — you  cannot  march  a  mile  without 
a  murmur. 

Geor.  On  my  own  native  hills  in  bonnie  Scotland,  with  my  hound 
bv  my  side,  I  have  walked  a  dozen  miles  before  breakfast ;  but  under 
this  Indian  sun - 

Mary.  And  with  only  a  pretty  girl  by  your  side - 

Alice.  Say  two  pretty  girls.  Don’t  be  bashful,  Mary — include  me. 

Eniei  Mrs.  Campbell. 

Geor.  Oh,  Mrs.  Campbell,  look  here!  I  am  besieged — Delhi  is 
nothing  to  the  condition  I  shall  be  in  if  you  don’t  relieve  me. 

Alice.  Mrs.  Campbell,  please,  he  won’t  tell  us  which  of  us  he  is  in 
love  with. 

Mrs.  C.  I  will  tell  you:  with  neither.  He  is  in  love  with  his  new 
uniform;  he  only  received  his  commission  two  months  ago,  and  every 
officer  is  for  six  months  in  love  with  himself. 

Geor.  After  that  I’ll  take  a  glass  of  rangaree. 

Mrs.  C.  Where’s  Randal  I 


«  JESSIE  BR0W5. 

Oeor.  My  fiery  brother,  the  McGregor — as  Jessie  will  insist  on  call* 
?ng  him — is,  as  usual,  inspecting  his  men. 

Mrs.  C.  Jessie  is  right ;  for  your  brother,  Randal  McGregor,  is  the 
noblest  man  that  ever  breathed  the  Scottish  air  and  made  it  purer. 
But  tell  me,  what  news  from  Delhi  ?  [They  sit. 

Geor.  Oh,  the  siege  continues;  but  it  will  be  taken,  of  course — these 
Dlack  rascals  are  mere  scum. 

[Achmet,  who  is  serving  Geordie,  looks  round. 

Alice.  There  is  one  who  disagrees  with  you  on  that  point. 

Geor.  Does  he  1 

Ach.  No,  sahib,  Allah  Akbar !  it  is  so — we  are  scum.  Lady,  in 
Hindoostan  there  are  ore  hundred  millions  such  as  I  am,  and  there 
are  one  hundred  thousand  such  as  you ;  yet  for  a  century  you  have 
had  your  foot  on  our  necks;  we  are  to  you  a  thousand  to  one— 
a  thousand  black  necks  to  one  white  foot.  God  is  just,  and  Moham¬ 
med  is  his  prophet.  We  are  scum  ! 

Geor.  I  can’t  answer  for  the  truth  of  your  calculation,  but  I  agree 
Jin  the  sentiment — you  are  scum.  [Drinks 

Ach.  Sometimes  the  scum  rises. 

Geor.  Yes,  Dusky,  and  when  it  does,  the  pot  boils  over  and  puts 
die  fire  out ;  so  the  scum  extinguishes  the  element  that  made  it  rise. 

Ach.  I  cannot  reason  with  a  European. 

Geor.  No,  nor  fight  with  one;  by  your  own  calculation  it  takes  one 
thousand  of  you  to  do  either  one  or  the  other.  [Exit  Achmet. 

Mrs.  C.  Beware  of  that  man,  Geordie;  I  did  not  like  the  expression 
of  his  face  as  you  spoke. 

Geor.  Bah  !  there  is  virtue  enough  in  one  red-coat  to  put  a  whole 
army  of  them  to  flight. 

Mrs.  C.  Have  you  ever  been  in  battle  ? 

Geor.  Never.  But  when  I’m  on  parade,  and  hear  the  drums  and 
see  the  uniforms,  I  feel  liko  the  very  devil. 

Alice.  There  is  no  chance  of  the  war  coming  here — is  there  ? 

Geor.  Not  the  slightest.  London  itself  is  not  more  peaceable  than 
yonder  city  of  Lucknow ;  the  native  regiments  here  are  faithful  as 
dogs.  You  need  not  fear  danger. 

Mrs.  C.  The  rebellion  is  still  far.  But  when  I  think  of  the  atrocities 
already  perpetrated  by  the  Sepoys — when  I  think  of  my  two  little 
children — oh,  why  do  1  remain  here  in  the  midst  of  such  scenes  of 
horror  I  - 

Geor.  Because  you  are  in  love  with  my  brother  Randal ;  the  feel¬ 
ings  of  the  mother  urge  you  to  go  and  the  feelings  of  the  woman  com¬ 
mand  you  to  stay’ 

Mrs.  0.  [Rising. ]  Geordie,  there  is  more  truth  than  kindness  in 
what  you  say. 

Geor.  [Holds  her.]  Stay,  Amy,  I’m  a  thoughtless  fool. 

Mrs.  C.  Yet  you  wrong  me  a  little — I  was  betrothed  to  Randal. 
We  quarreled,  as  lovers  will,  and  parted.  In  that  moment  of  anger  I 
accepted  the  hand  of  Colonel  Campbell. 

Geor.  At  the  seige  of  Sebastopol  Randal  became  your  husband’s 
mosl  devoted  friend,  and  watched  over  him  like  a  brothef. 


JESSIE  BROWN. 


6 


Mrs.  C.  Oh  !  it  was  a  noble  reproof  to  my  falsehood. 

Geor.  And  at  the  charge  of  the  Highlanders,  whan  Campbell  wai 
struck  down  mortally  wounded,  and  the  command  devolved  on  my 
brother,  Randal  carried  him  in  his  arms,  at  the  head  of  the  regiment, 
into  the  Redan,  so  that  none  of  the  glory  of  that  day  should  be  lost 
to  his  rival. 

Mrs.  C.  Should  I  not  be  unfaithful  to  my  dead  husband  if  I  did 
not  love  Randal  McGregor  as  I  do  ? 

[Jessie,  outside ,  sings. 

Mary.  Hush,  listen!  [Geordie  goes  up. 

Alice.  What  is  that  ? 

Geordie.  What  is  it?  why  it  is  a  sprig  of  heather  from  the  High¬ 
land  moors.  It  is  a  slogan  on  the  Scotch  pipes  that  nature  has  put 
into  the  prettiest  throat  that  ever  had  an  arm  round  it.  It  is  the  pet 
of  the  regiment.  It  is  Jessie  Brown. 

Mrs.  C.  Yes,  ’tis  Jessie,  here  she  comes  up  the  hill  with  hei  two 
lovers. 

Alice.  Two  lovers !  That’s  extra  allowance. 

Geor.  She  might  have  eight  hundred  if  she  liked,  for  that  is  the 
strength  of  the  78th  Regiment,  and  there’s  not  a  man  in  it  that  would 
not  stake  his  life  for  a  blink  of  her  blue  eye. 

Mrs.  C.  Jessie  is  a  good  girl,  as  honest  and  true  as  steel.  She  is 
betrothed  to  S weenie  Jones,  a  private  in  the  32d. 

Geor.  An  ugly,  wiry  little  fellow,  but  a  smart  soldier  and  as  brave 
as  a  terrier. 

Mrs.  C.  But  she  is  also  followed  by  a  soft,  good-natured  Irish  cor¬ 
poral  named  Cassidy,  the  bosom  friend  of  Sweenie,  and  to  see  these 
two  men  so  devoted  to  each  other,  and  yet  so  fond  of  the  same  girl, 
is  a  picture  too  like  my  own  history  not  to  fill  me  with  interest  and 
emotion.  [Music. — Scotch  air — very  piano. 

Geor.  She  belongs  to  our  clan. 

Alice.  Here  she  comes. 

Mrs.  C.  And  here  come  my  darling  ones. 

Enter  Sweenie,  carrying  Charlie  on  his  back ,  and  Cassidy  carrying 

Effie  on  his  shoulder. 

Char.  Wo,  hossey  !  come  up.  [Sweenie  tries  to  salute  Geordie. 
Cassidy  salutes  him. 

Effie.  [Beating  Cassidy  with  her  parasol.\  Go  along,  hossy. 

Char.  Oh,  Sweenie,  you’ll  have  me  down,  hold  me  up,  sir. 

Enter  Jessie. — Music  ceases. 

Jessie.  Dinna  ye  hear  the  bairn,  ye  lout,  hau’d  him  up. 

Sween.  How  can  I  when  I  must  salute  my  officer  1 

Jessie.  Ee,  sirs,  its  maister  Geordie — glide  day,  leddies — ee,  ma 
certie,  how  braw  a  chiel  he  is  in  his  red  coat,  and  his  gou’d  lace. 
There’s  McGregor  in  every  inch  of  him.  Ee  why  wasn’t  I  the  Queen 
of  Scotland  to  make  a  king  of  him. 

Geor.  Don’t  1*3  a  fool,  Jessie,  you  talk  just  as  you  did  when  we 
were  children. 


JESSIE  BROWN. 


Jessie.  And  wha  shouldn’t  I,  Geordie,  then,  in  the  days  of  auld 
fang  syne,  when  we  played  together  on  the  craigs  o’  Duncleuch,  you 
aye  used  to  kiss  me  when  we  met  and  parted — you  do  so  now  when 
there  is  nane  to  see — are  you  ashamed  of  those  days  when  we  were 
children,  Geordie  7  I’m  not. 

Geor.  No,  Jessie,  and  I’ll  kiss  you  now  if  Sweenie  does  not  mind. 

Siceen.  No,  your  honor,  if  Jessie  says  all  right,  so  it  is. 

Cas.  We  give  our  consint. 

Alice.  [  Vexed.]  Jessie  has  three  lovers  instead  of  two,  it  seems. 

Jes.  Eh  !  [Aside.]  Yon  lassie  loo’s  him,  I  spier  it  in  the  blink  o’ 
her  e’e.  She  is  fashed  wi’  him  for  kissin’  me. 

Geor.  [Aside.]  Alice  is  furious.  [Aloud.]  Come,  Jessie,  for  anld 
lang  syne. 

Jes.  [Snatching  Charlie  from  Sweenie — aside  to  Swbenib.]  Say 
ye  nae  like  it. 

Sween.  [Puzzled.]  Eh, — What!  Hold  your  honor,  I  ax  pardon, 

but - 

Jes.  Sweenie’s  jealous. 

Cas.  We  are  chokin’  wid  it,  plase  your  honor. 

Mrs.  C.  [who  with  Mary  has  watched  this  scene ,  and  understood 
Jessie's  motives ,  advances  ]  Go  along,  all  of  you,  take  your  sweet¬ 
hearts  into  the  kitchen.  Jessie,  leave  the  children  here. 

Jes.  ’Tention  32nd  !  fa’  in.  Recht  fess. — March  ! 

[  Exit  Sweenie  and  Cassidy ,  following  her  word  of  command. 

Mrs.  C.  [Laughing.]  There  girls,  there’s  a  pair  of  lovers  reduced 
to  discipline  ! 

Alice.  Yet  people  say  thatnow-a-days  the  chivalry  has  left  the  Offi¬ 
cers  and  is  to  be  found  in  the  ranks. 

Mrs.  C.  No,  Alice — Jessie  is  beloved,  because  all  men  worship 
what  is  brave,  gentle,  and  good,  because  she  shrinks  from  hurting 
another’s  feelings,  even  in  jest,  as  she  did  yours  just  now. 

Jes.  Nae,  my  leddy — I  knaw  nout  o’  what  yer  spierin  at. 

Mrs.  C.  Then  take  that  blush  away. 

[Jessie  runs  out ,  stops  and  returns  timidly  to  Alice. 

Jes.  [in  a  low  voice.]  Ye  are  nae  angry  wi’  puir  Jessie. 

Alice.  [  Turns  and  throws  her  arms  round  her  neck  and  kisses  her.] 
No.  [Jessie  runs  off. 

Mrs.  C.  Now,  Geordie,  you  can  take  Jessie’s  kiss  where  she  has 
left  it,  and  I  am  sure  you  will  hurt  nobody’s  feelings. 

Alice.  Oh,  Amy.  [Geordie  crosses  to  Alice. 

Mis.  C.  Come  girls,  take  Geordie  in,  I  would  be  alone. 

[Music,  exit  Geordie,  Alice  and  Mary. 

Mrs.  C.  Randal  is  coming,  I  cannot  hear  his  footstep,  but  it  falls 
on  my  heart,  he  is  beyond  my  senses,  but  love,  that  heavenly  essence, 
gives  me  a  feeling  finer  than  sense,  and  I  know  that  my  lover  comes. 
’Tis  the  air  lie  breathes,  that  conveys  his  presence  to  me,  as  it  flutters 
through  my  heart. 

Enter  Randal  McGregor. 

Ran.  Amy. 

C.  Ah,  I  knew  U 


JESSIE  BR0  WIT. 


1 


Char.  Oh,  dere’s  Randal. 

Effie :  No,  Charlie,  me  first,  kiss  Eflle  first.  [  They  run  to  him. 

Ran.  There,  that  will  do,  run  along,  go  Charlie,  go  Eftle,  you  tease 
me.  [The  Children  shrink  back. 

Airs.  C.  Come  away  dears,  you  are  tired,  Randal. 

Ran.  No,  but  the  sight  of  those  children  pains  me. 

Mrs.  C.  They  remind  you  that  I  have  been  unfaithful — oh  Randal, 
do  not  visit  the  fault  of  the  mother  upon  these  innocent  children. 

Ran.  Amy,  your  repentance  wonnds  me,  and  your  memory  of  that 
fault  is  a  reproach  to  my  love.  Oh,  let  it  be  buried  in  the  grave  of 
your  noble  husband. 

Mrs.  C.  Forgive  me. 

Ran.  Charlie,  come  here,  Effie,  come.  [He  kisses  them.]  Amy,  I 
have  bad  news,  the  rebels  are  at  Cawnpore,  not  fifty  miles  from  hence, 
«nd  a  report  has  just  arrived,  that  tells  of  horrors  committed  on  our 
countrymen,  their  wives,  their  children,  that  makes  my  blood  freeze 
and  my  heart  groan. 

Mrs.  C.  Randal,  Randal,  are  we  in  danger  here,  my  children,  are 
they  safe. 

Ran.  Hush,  one  cry  of  alarm,  one  look  of  fear,  and  we  are  lost. 
Of  our  regiments  in  Lucknow,  four  will  mutiny,  one  only  will  remain 
faithful,  to-night  you  must  leave  this  place. 

Mrs.  C.  Is  peril  so  near. 

Enter  two  native  servants ,  who  remove  the  service. 

Ran.  Hush.  as  he  dances ,  Charlie. 

There  is  nae  luck  aboot  the  hoose. 

There  is  nae  luck  at  all,  &c. 

[Mrs.  Campbell  leans ,  trembling ,  over  the  child  at  her  side.  Exeunt 

Natives. 

Mrs.  C.  They  are  gone. 

Ran.  Regain  your  courage,  think  of  these  children. 

Mrs.  C.  Randal,  you  exagerate  the  danger ;  look  around  you — all 
is  at  peace,  the  people  are  kind  and  gentle — not  a  look  of  anger  or 
cf  hate  in  any  face  ;  our  servants  are  devoted  to  us. 

Ran.  Fatal  security  !  Yonder  country  to  you  seems  in  repose — to 
me  it  seems  like  a  sleeping  tiger.  Death  is  humming  in  the  air. 
You  say  your  servants  are  faithful — there  is  one  of  them  watching  us 
now — we  are  watched — don’t  turn — a  tall  black  fellow  in  a  crimson 
turban. 

Mrs.  C.  Achmet. 

Ran.  Listen,  without  betraying  any  emotion.  At  midnight  I  shall 
bring  down  50  men — be  ready  to  start  without  delay  ;  take  nothing 
with  you — make  no  preparation. 

Mrs.  C.  Why  cannot  we  fly  now,  ai  once  ? 

Ran.  Because  your  own  servants  would  assassinate  you,  and  join 
the  army.  [Night  begins. 

Jfrs.  C.  May  they  not  do  so  ere  to-night. 

Ran.  No  ;  I  gave  Cassidy  and  Sweenie  leave  to  come  here,  and  sent 
Geordie  on — that  makes  three,  and  you  have  only  30  servants  ;  tilt 
natives  dare  not  attack  at  such  odds. 


8 


JESSIE  BROWN. 


Mrs.  C.  Does  Geordie  know  our  peril  ? 

Ran.  No  ;  nor  is  it  necessary,  until  the  hour  arrives.  He  is  ycuug 
and  might  lack  coolness. 

Mrs.  C.  Why  do  you  suspect  my  household  of  treachery? 

Ran.  [Drawing  out  a  paper.]  Do  you  know  the  Rajah  of  Bithoor? 

Mrs.  C.  Nana  Sahib — I  saw  him  at  Benares,  at  Sbe  feast  of  Moham 
Tiedah,  a  year  ago.  I  might  not  nave  recollected  him,  but  he  fol¬ 
lowed  me  with  so  a  strange  gaze  that  he  almost  terrified  me. 

Ran.  Do  you  understand  Hindoostanee  ? 

Mrs.  C.  No. 

Ran.  I  do.  [As  he  reads.  Acumet  glides  on  behind,  and  creeps  to  hL 
shoulder .]  This  letter  was  intercepted  at  Secunderah,  to-day.  Listen 
as  I  translate  :  %i  My  faithful  Achmet — to-night,  at  one  hour  after  the 
set  of  moon,  I  shall  be  at  the  M&rtiniere  with  500  men  ;  when  the 
Feringhee  woman  is  in  my  Zenana,  to  you  I  give  a  lac  of  rupees 
Destroy  the  children — they  are  giaours.  Nana  Sahib.” 

[Achmet  raises  a  knife  over  Randal. 

Mrs.  C.  My  children!  [Music.  Sees  Achmet  and  viters  a  cry;  Ach¬ 
met  drops  his  knife ,  rums  up  and  leaps  over  the  parapet.  Randal  turns, 
draws  a  pistol  and  fires  at  him  as  he  disappears. 

Re-enter  Geordie,  Alice,  Mary,  Jessie,  Sweenie,  and  Cassidy. 

Ran  Do  not  be  alarmed.  ’Twas  only — a  jackal ;  I  fired  and  scared 
him  away. 

Cas.  A  jackal  is  it — then,  be  jabers,  here  he  comes  back  again — 
aikl  on  his  hind  legs. 

Enter  Blount,  with  his  hat  smashed. 

All.  Mr.  Blount ! 

Ran.  The  Chaplain  of  our  Regiment. 

Cas.  llis  Riverence ! 

Blount.  Good  evening,  my  friends.  -May  I  suggest  that  the  next 
time  you  throw  a  fellow  six  foot  high  out  of  an  upper  window,  you 
would  intimate  your  views  to  peaceable  persons  below. 

Cas.  A  jackal,  six  foot  high! 

Geor.  Are  you  hurt,  sir? 

Blount.  No;  fortunately  I  received  the  thing  on  my  head— from 
whence  it  bounded  off,  and  rolled  down  the  hill-side  into  the  jungle. 

Ran.  Return  to  the  house,  all  of  you.  [Exeunt  all  but  Mrs.  Campbell 
Mr.  Blount,  stay !  one  word — you  are  a  clergyman— but  once  you 
were,  I  believe,  an  officer  in  Her  Majesty's  Carbineers. 

Blount.  I  quitted  the  army  from  conscientious  scruples. 

Ran.  Are  you  a  coward  ? 

Blount.  A  coward!  I  think  not — that  is — well — no;  for  when  I 
read  the  accounts  of  these  atrocities,  I  feel  in  me  an  emotion  that  is 
evil,  very  evil — a  sinful  desire  to  smash  the  heads  of  these  wretches, 
who  butcher  women  and  infants.  I  know  the  feeling  is  horrible  ;  1 
ought  to  forgive  and  pray  for  them.  I  have  bound  the  devil  in  m* 
but  he  leaks  out. 

Ran.  If  you  saw  these  little  ones  in  peril,  would  you  fight? 


JESSIE  BKOWN, 


Blount  Fight !  young  man — my  dear  Randal — I  kill  human  beings  i 
a  clergyman  destroy  lives  !  what  do  you  take  me  for? 

Run.  I  take  you  for  a  brave  man.  You  were  born  a  warrior,  but 
your  more  gentle  nature  refused  to  war  against  any  creatures  but  the 
wicked,  and  you  could  not  shed  blood  except  in  the  cause  of  human¬ 
ity.  Don’t  deny  it ;  you  retired  from  the  army  and  became  curate  of 
a  poor  Scotch  village  near  my  home;  from  your  lips  I  first  learned 
what  war  was. 

Blount.  I  portrayed  its  horrors,  its  wickedness. 

Ran.  I  only  saw  its  glory;  I  only  saw  your  face  lighted  with  the 
animation  of  the  charge — you  fired  my  soul  and  made  me  what  I  arn- 

Blount.  God  forgive  me  ;  I  ruined  the  boy. 

Ran.  I  entered  the  army — you  followed  me. 

Blount.  Did  I  not  promise  your  dying  father  to  watch  over  you  ? 
and  here’s  how  I  did  it. 

Ran.  Listen,  my  dear  old  tutor.  You  are  brave  and  cool,  and  to 
you  alone  I  can  confide  the  defence  of  this  house  to-night. 

Blount.  To  me — good  gracious ! 

Ran.  You  will  be  surrounded  by  Nana  Sahib’s  troops;  his  design  is 
to  murder  all  its  inmates  except  Amy,  whom  he  destines  for  his 
Zenana. 

Blount.  The  demon !  May  his  infernal  spirit  roast  in — what  am  1 
saying  !  May  a  merciful  Father  forgive  him  !  This  is  horrible. 

Ran.  At  midnight  summon  all  the  household,  and  start  for  the  city. 
I  will  precede  you  and  gather  a  guard,  and  hasten  back  to  meet  you. 

Mrs.  C.  Do  you  go  alone  ? 

Ran.  My  horse  is  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  picketed  in  the  copse ; 
once  on  his  back,  I  am  in  Lucknow.  Farewell. 

[Music.  Embraces  Mrs.  C. 

Mrs.  C.  Oh,  Randal,  shall  we  ever  meet  again? 

Ran.  We  sleep  to-night  in  yonder  city  or  in  Heaven,  [ Exit  Randal 

Blount.  Stop,  Randal,  my  dear  boy  ;  I  can’t  do  it.  He  is  gone— 
what  shall  I  do?  Mercy  on  me  !  what  arms  are  there  in  the  house? 

Mrs.  C.  Two  double  guns,  a  rifle,  my  late  husband’s  swords  and 
a  brace  of  pistols. 

Blount.  A  clergyman— a  minister  of  peace— what  will  become  of 
me  !  Have  you  any  powder? 

Mrs.  C.  A  small  keg  of  cartridges? 

Blount.  These  poor  children !  I  tremble  in  every  limb.  Have  you 
any  caps? 

Mrs.  C.  A  box  or  two. 

Blount.  The  old  devil  is  kicking  in  me — my  blood  beats  hot.  Get 
thee  behind  me,  Satan !  Oh  !  if  I  could  only  see  these  deluded  mur¬ 
derers,  to  speak  with  them,  to  prepare  their  erring  souls,  before  I  sent 
them  to  ask  for  that  mercy  in  Heaven  which,  by  the  way,  they  never 
show  on  earth,  [.'l/im'c.]  My  respected  and  dear  friend,  we  are  en¬ 
gaged  in  a  wicked  deed — I  feel  it — come,  let  us  see  your  ammunition 

b  [Exeunt. 


10 


JESSIE  BROWN. 


SCENE  II. — A  verandah  attached  to  the  home.  Night, 

Enter  Sweenie  and  Cassidy. 

Cas.  Whisht!  Sweenie,  come  here — spake  low!  D’ye  see  th 
wood  beyant  ?  there’s  fifty  black  divils  hidin’  in  it,  and  here’s  one 
their  raping  hooks  I  found  in  the  grass. 

Sween.  Rebels  here ! 

Cas.  I  was  watchin’  the  Capting  ;  as  he  hurried  down  they  crep 
afther  him.  He  has  come  to  grief,  Sweenie,  for  yonder  is  the  road 
to  Lucknow,  and  his  horse  has  not  passed  down  it  yet.  Oh,  wurra, 
wurra,  what  will  we  do? 

Sween.  Give  me  that  sabre;  stop  here,  Cassidy,  I  will  creep  down 
and  see  what  is  going  on  below  ;  don’t  say  a  word  to  frighten  the 
women,  but  if  I  don’t  come  back  in  ten  minutes,  conclude  I’m  dead; 
then,  in  with  ye,  barricade  the  doors,  and  tell  Master  Geordie. 

Cas.  Sweenie.  avich,  let  me  go.  Oh,  murdher!  you’ll  be  killed 
and  Jessie  wil  never  forgive  me  for  not  goin’  in  your  place. 

Sween.  Cassidy,  if  the  rebels  are  here  in  force,  I  shall  fall ;  and  as 
the  savage  spare  neither  women  nor  children,  I’ll  see  ye  both  in 
Heaven  before  morning,  so  I  won’t  say  good  night.  [Exit. 

Cas.  God  speed  ye,  Sweenie,  an  keep  ye. 

Enter  Jessie 

Jes.  Who  is  that?  Cassidy! 

Cas.  Meself,  darlin’.  [Distant  shot. 

Jes.  What  s  that ! 

Cas.  [ Aside. ]  Its  murdherin’  the  Captain  they  are,  I  dar’nt  tell 
her.  [Aloud]  That,  that  was  Sweenie,  sure  he’s  gone  down  beyant, 
may  be,  that  is  by  accident,  his  swoord  went  off  on  half  cock. 

Jes.  His  sword  1 

Enter  Geordie. 

Geor.  Jessie,  come  here;  eh,  who’s  that — Cassidy  ? 

Cas.  [Aside.]  What’ll  I  do  at  all,  if  if  he  knew  that  Sweenie  was 
gone  to  get  killed  for  his  brother. 

Gear.  Go  in,  Cassidy,  leave  us. 

Cas.  I’m  off,  your  honor.  [Going.]  Five  minutes  are  gone,  I’ll  creep 
afther  Sweenie.  If  I  had  a  bagginit,  or  a  taste  ov  a  twig  itself,  but 
I’ve  nothin’  in  my  hand  but  my  fist.  [Exit. 

Jes.  Did  ye  ca’  me. 

Gear.  Come  here,  you  little  puss,  now  you  shall  give  me  that  kiss 
l  did  not  get  this  afternoon. 

Jes.  Geordie  you  have  been  drinking. 

Geor.  And  if  I  have.  Wine  lets  out  the  truth,  Jessie,  and  the  truth 
is — I  love  you. 

Jes.  Ee  !  dinna  ye  always  loov  me  ? 

Geor.  No,  I  love  you  as  you  deserve  to  be  loved,  and  I  can’t  bear 
to  see  such  a  pretty  girl  as  you  have  grown  throw  yourself  away  on 
those  common  soldiers,  like  Sweenie  and  his  comrades. 

Jes.  Oh,  Geordie,  Sweenie  loves  you — he  would  die  for  you  or 
Randal 


J88SIB  BE0WM. 


11 


Geor.  Oh,  devil  take  Sweeniel  all  our  mess  say  you  are  too  good 
for  him.  You  are  the  prettiest  girl  in  Lucknow. 

Jes.  Let  us  gang  awa  in,  Geordie  dear. 

Geor.  [Taking  her  in  his  arms.]  No,  you  sba’n’t — come,  don’t  be  fool¬ 
ish,  Jessie.  Could  you  not  be  happy  with  me — don’t  you  like  an 
officer  better  than  a  vulgar,  common  soldier. 

Jes.  Oh,  Geordie  !  oh,  Geordie  !  [Bur  us  her  face  in  her  hands. 

Geor.  Look  up,  Jessie. 

Jes.  I  canna,  I  canna. 

Geor.  Why  can’t  you  look  up  into  my  face  ? 

Jes.  I’m  lukin  far  awa — far  awa,  upon  craigs  of  Duncleuch  ;  ’tis  in 
the  days  of  auld  lang  syne,  and  the  arm  of  wee  Geordie  McGregor  is 
round  the  body  of  Jessie  Brown,  for  he  is  saving  her  life  in  the  sea. 
Na,  don’t  tak  yer  arm  awa,  Geordie  dear.  I  m  lukin  still.  Geordie 
is  a  laddie  noo,  and  he  chases  the  deer  on  the  craigs  of  Duncleuch  ; 
beside  him  is  poor  Sweenie — poor  faithful  Sweenie,  that  follows  the 
McGregor  like  a  dog  ;  Geordie  drives  a  stag  to  bay  ;  the  beastie 
rushes  on  him  and  throws  him  doon— -anither  minit  and  Geordie  will 
na  see  Jessie  mair — but  Sweenie’s  dirk  is  quicker  than  that  minit! 
the  brute  fell  dead,  but  not  before  he  gored  poor  Sweenie  sorely.  We 
watched  by  his  bedside ;  d'ye  mind  the  time,  Geordie  ?  your  arm 
was  round  me  then — na,  dinna  tak  it  awa  noo. 

Geor.  Oh,  Jessie!  oh,  Jessie! 

Jes.  Luk  up,  Geordie. 

Geor.  I  cannot. 

Jes.  Why  canna  ye  luk  up  into  my  face  ? 

Geor.  Because  I’m  looking  far  away,  far  away  into  the  days  of  auld 
lang  syne,  and  they  make  me  ashamed  of  what  I  am. 

Jes.  The  bluid  of  shame  never  crossed  the  brow  of  a  McGregor 

Nal  na!  you  may  kiss  me  now  ;  but  listen,  Geordie  ;  whisper — 

Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot 
And  never  brought  to  mind, 

Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot 
And  the  days  of  auld  lang  syne. 

For  auld  lang  syne,  my  dear, 

For  auld  lang  syne, 

Then  tak  a  kiss  of  kindness  yet 
For  auld  lang  syne.  [ Exeunt . 

SCENE  III. —  The  Interior  of  the  Bungalo.  A  room  serving  for  a  nursery 

— large  openings  at  the  back  discover  a  distant  view  of  Lucknow,  brilliant 

with  lights 

Mrs.  Campbell  discovered.  Charlie  and  Effie,  Alice  and  Mary. 

Mrs.  C.  No,  1  shall  not  undress  the  children.  Take  Effie  with  you, 
Alice. 

Alice  Poor  child,  she  is  almost  asleep  now. 

Char.  Mamma,  I  want  to  go  to  bed.  Where  is  Jessie  ? 


12 


JESSIE  BROWN. 


Enter  Jessie. 

Jes.  Here,  my  precious  one.  [Exit  Alice  and  Mary,  with  Effie. 

Mrs.  C.  Place  him  in  his  cot ;  do  not  remove  his  clothes.  [Walla 
up  and  down.  Aside.']  I  have  calmed  the  agitation  of  the  poor  Md 
chaplain,  but  my  own  overpowers  me. 

C/utr.  Jessie,  sing  me  Charlie  ;  you  are  not  tired,  are  you? 

Jes.  Nae,  darling  ;  I’m  never  tired  o’  teaching  ye  the  airs  o’  Scot 
land.  [Sings  a  verse  of  “ Charlie  is  my  Darling .” 

Mrs.  C.  Can  I  entrust  the  secret  to  this  girl?  [Aloud.]  Jessie! 

Jes.  Aweel,  my  lady. 

Mrs.  C.  There’s  danger  near.  Don’t  start,  don’t  cry.  To-night 
this  house  is  to  be  surrounded  by  the  rebels— our  murder  is  planned, 
but  so  is  our  escape. 

Jes.  [Rising.]  It  canna  be  ;  wha  tauld  ye  this? 

Mrs.  C.  Randal  McGregor. 

Jes.  Then  it’s  true. 

Mrs.  C.  Hush  !  five  hundred  men  will  attack  us. 

Jes.  Mercy  on  us!  what  will  become  of  us? 

Mrs.  C.  Randal  has  promised  to  rescue  us. 

Jes.  [Resuming  her  calmness.]  The  McGregor  has  said  it  5  dinna  ye 
fash  yersel — gin  he  said  it,  he’ll  do  it.  [Returns  to  the  cot. 

Mrs.  C.  Go,  Jessie,  see  to  the  fastenings  of  all  the  doors,  but  show 
no  fear,  excite  no  suspicion. 

Jessie.  I  hae  no  fear.  Has  not  the  McGregor  gi’en  his  word  to  cooin 
back  ?  lle’l  tak  it  up,  and  under  his  claymore  there  can  nae  fear. 

[Exit  hastily. — Music. 

Mrs.  C.  This  girl  gives  me  a  lesson  in  courage — what  reliance, 
what  noble  confidence  she  has  in  Randal — how  calm  she  turned, 
when  she  heard  he  had  given  his  word  to  secure  our  escape. 

[Nana  Safiib  and  Achmet  appear  at  the  window),  on  the  balcony.  Achmet 

points  to  Mrs.  Campbell.  The  Nana  enters  the  chamber.  Achmet  dis 

appears. 

What  is  the  hour?  [Goes  up  and  looks  at  her  watch.]  It  is  now  past 
eleven.  Randal  must  have  reached  the  city  by  this  time — it  is  time 
to  prepare.  turns  and  sees  the  Nana  beside  her.]  Mercy  1 

JYana.  Be  silent — you  know  me. 

Mrs.  C.  The  Nana  Sahib. 

Nana.  The  officer  who  intercepted  my  letter  to  Achmet,  is  my 
prisoner.  My  men  are  now  surrounding  your  park.  Escape  is  hope¬ 
less. 

Mrs.  C.  [Aside.]  Randal  taken  prisoner !  then  we  are  lost. 

Nana.  Listen!  I  saw  you  at  Benares— your  soul  entered  through  my 
eyes  into  my  heart,  and  thrust  out  my  own.  I  followed  you,  until 
like  the  sun  you  passed  away  where  I  could  follow  no  more  ;  I  went 
to  Bithoor,  and  my  wives  offended  your  soul  in  me.  I  gave  them 
riches  and  sent  them  away — my  Zenana  is  cold — I  am  there  alone  5  it 
awaits  the  form  to  which  the  soul  here  belongs. 

Mrs.  C.  You  would  murder  my  children  and  dishonor  their  mother. 


JESS  E  BROWN. 


II 


Nana.  Ycur  children  shall  be  mine,  princes  of  the  Mahratta  ;  follow 
me  and  no  blood  shall  flow.  I  will  withdraw  my  men.  Lucknow 
shall  be  spared,  and  peace  restored. 

Mrs.  C.  England  would  spurn  the  peace  bought  thus  with  the 
honor  of  one  of  her  people. 

Nana.  [ Approaching  the  bed.]  This  is  your  child? 

Mrs.  C.  My  child. 

Nana.  [ Draws  his  yataghan.]  No  cry  !  or  this  steel  is  in  his  throat  1 

Char.  Mamma,  oh,  dear  mamma,  help  me. 

Mrs.  C.  Hush,  Charlie,  my  own  one,  don’t  cry,  hush.  Oh,  Rajah 
Sahib,  spare  my  child  ;  yes,  I  consent. 

Enter  Jessie 


I  will  follow  you— spare — 

[Jessie  snatches  the  knife  from  the  Nana,  and  stabbing  him  with  it  suddenly. 

Jes.  Drop  that  bairn,  ye  black  deevil !  [Nana  staggers  a  moment  and 
drops  the  child,  whom  Jessie  catches  to  her  breast. 

Nana.  Tehanum  possess  ye — mine  then  ye  shall  be  by  force — none 
under  this  roof  but  you,  shall  see  to-morrow’s  sun. 

{Distant  shots — cries  within — Achmet  appears.  Nana  and  Achmet  dram 
their  scimeters  and  leap  over  the  balcony. 

Enter  Geordie,  Alice,  and  Mary. 

Gear.  What  shots  were  those? 

Alice.  What  has  happened? 

Mrs.  C.  The  Nana  Sahib  with  five  hundred  rebels,  besiege  us  in  thia 
house.  Randal  is  their  prisoner.  Randal  who  promised  to  res 
cue  us. 

Jes.  Prisoner  or  free,  the  McGregor  will  keep  his  word. 

Mrs.  C.  The  impassibility  of  that  girl  drives  me  mad. 

Enter  Cassidy,  running . 

Cas.  He’s  cornin’  thunder  and  turf,  he’s  fightin’  like  a  cat  wid  tin 
legs  and  fifteen  claws  on  aich  fut. 

Alice.  Who  ? 

Cas.  The  Captain  ;  Sweenie  is  fightin’  beside  him.  [ Shots  outside.] 
Hurroo  !  they’re  at  it. 

[Runs  up,  Geordie  follows  to  verandah  at  back. 
Gear.  There  they  are  in  the  copse. 

Cas.  Where’s  a  gun,  oh  a  gun  for  the  love  o’  God. 

Jes.  Here  is  one.  [Shots. 

Cas.  Hoo!  there  goes  a  bullet  through  my  leg.  [Geordie  staggers 
back  very  pale.  Jessie  runs  up  with  the  f$un.]  The  devils  see  us  in  the 
light  here,  and  they’re  pepperin’  us  handsome. 

Jes.  Look,  Cassidy,  look  !  there’s  a  big  fellow  makin’  for  Sweenie, 
quick.  [Cassidy  fires. 

Cas.  Hoo! 

Jes.  Here  they  come — quick  by  this  ladder. 


14 


JESSIE  BROWN. 


Enter  Sweenie,  and  then  IIandal.  Jessie  comes  doivn  and  soothJ 

Charlie  and  Effie. 

Ran.  Cast  down  that  ladder,  Cassidy,  and  stand  to  your  arms 

Cas.  Ay,  your  honor. 

Mrs.  C.  Ob,  Randal,  you  have  escaped ! 

Jes.  I  told  you  the  McGregor  would  keep  his  word. 

Ran.  I  was  taken  prisoner,  by  about  fifty  men,  who  lie  just  this 
side  of  the  bridge,  their  main  force  is  still  beyond  the  river,  they  are 
led  by  some  Rajah  of  rank. 

Mrs.  C.  By  the  Nana  Sahib  in  person,  he  was  here. 

Alice.  Here! 

Mrs.  C.  He  came  by  that  ladder,  and  fled  when  wounded  by  Jessie. 

Jes.  Na!  the  deevil  had  a  steel  jacket  on,  the  blow  slipped  awa. 

Ran.  Nana  Sahib,  then  the  whole  force  of  the  rebels  is  in  the 
neighborhood— Lucknow  is  threatened— the  garrison  will  be  taken  by 
surprise,  where  is  Geordie  ? 

Gear.  Here,  Randal.  [ Advancing . 

Ran.  How  pale  you  are,  are  you  wounded? 

Geor.  No — it  is  nothing. 

Ran.  A  scratch  I  suppose.  Geordie,  a  dispatch  must  be  carried  to 
the  city  ;  I  will  write  it,  and  you  must  bear  it. 

Mrs.  C.  But  can  Geordie  escape  thro’  the  lines  of  the  enemy  who 
surround  us.  Death  must  be  nearly  certain. 

Ran.  Death  is  Dearly  certain,  and  therefore  I  pick  my  own  brother 
for  the  service  ;  besides,  he  is  an  officer,  and  claims  the  post  of  dan¬ 
ger  as  his  right.  Do  you  forget  the  name  we  bear  ?  Alice,  return 
to  the  interior  of  the  house.  Come,  Amy,  give  me  paper  and  ink. 
Geordie,  while  I  am  gone,  see  to  your  arms. 

[Exeunt  all  hut  Geordie  and  Jessie. 

Geor.  Death — he  said  that  death  is  nearly  certain. 

Jes.  How  pale  he  is  !  Geordie,  speak — are  you  hurt  ? 

Geor.  Oh,  Jessie ! 

Jes.  I  saw  ye  flench  from  the  shots— you  came  back  white  as  snaw. 
You  tremble— what  is  it,  Geordie  dear? — tell  me. 

Geor.  I  can't,  Jessie.  My  tongue  fails  me — as  my  limbs  do — oh, 
Jessie — I  feel  I  cannot  face  the  fire. 

Jes.  What  say  ye  ? 

Geor.  I  am  a  coward.  [Falls  in  a  chair. 

Jes.  Na!  [Runs  to  him.1]  Hush,  dearie ;  there’s  nae  drop  of  coward 
bluid  in  the  McGregor — tak’  time,  Geordie. 

Geor.  I  cannot  help  it,  Jessie ;  the  passion  of  fear  is  on  me — I  can¬ 
not  stir. 

Jes.  Oh,  my  heart !  oh,  my  heart !  My  Geordie,  think  of  what 
Randal  will  say  ii  he  sees  ye  so — his  ain  brither — his  ainly  one ! 
Think,  dearie,  there  are  women  here — and  bairns,  puir  helpless  things 
— and  if  ye  flench  noo,  they  will  be  killed  ! 

Geor.  1  know  it — [hides  his  face  and  his  hands'] — but  I  am  paralyzed. 

Jes.  Think  of  the  auld  mitlier  at  hame,  Geordie — the  proud  one  that 
nursed  ye,  Geordie — the  leddy  that  awaits  her  twa  boys  cumin’  back 
fra’  the  wars — whatl  will  ye  bring yer  mither  back  a  blighted  name? 


JESSIE  BROWN. 


15 


Ch.  hae  courage,  for  her  sake  ! — oh,  for  mine,  Geordie!  [Throws  her 
aims  around  him.]  Oh,  why  canua’  I  gang  beside  ye,  to  show  ye  how 
to  bleed  for  the  auld  braes  o’  Scotland  ? 

Enter  Blount. 

Wha’s  there?—  gang  awa’ — oh,  His  the  minister. 

Blount.  Is  he  wounded?  my  poor  boy,  is  he  hurt? 

Jes.  Oh.  sir,  help  him  ;  his  heart  fails — it  is  his  first  fight,  and  he 
flenches.  — 

Geor.  This  terrible  sense  of  fear  which  paralyzes  me  will  pass 
away.  ’Tis  a  spasm — it  cannot  be  that  my  fathers  son,  my  brother’s 
brother,  can  be  so  miserable,  so  contemptible  a  thing  as  this ! 

Blount.  The  boy  has  conscientious  scruples,  like  me. 

Geor.  No  no  ;  to  you— to  you  alone,  companions  of  my  childhood, 
let  me  confess — 

Blount.  No,  don’t  ;  you  sha’n’t  say  a  word — you  don’t  understand  ; 
l  know  all — first  powder  smells  sick  ;  but  after  you  see  a  few  men 
fall,  that  goes  off. 

Jes.  Yes,  it  clears  awa’. 

Blount.  Take  your  lip  between  your  teeth  and  choose  your  man. 

Jes.  Think  o’  the  bairnes  they’ve  slaughtered  in  cauld  bluid. 

Blount.  Don’t  trust  to  pistols — I  always  preferred  steel,  it’s  more 
reliable  and  doesn’t  miss  fire  ;  use  the  point — it  kills  ten  when  the 
blade  throws  open  your  guard,  and  only  wounds  one.  God  forgive 
me!  I  am  teaching  this  boy  how  to  murder. 

Re-enter  Randal,  with  the  order,  followed  by  Sweenie. 

Ran.  Here  is  the  dispatch.  Where  is  my  brother  ? 

Jes.  He  is  here,  but  stay  a  wee.  [Aside.]  Oh,  what  can  we  do? 

Ran.  How’s  this?  what  has  happened? 

Jes.  Naething.  [Aside]  He  blenches,  he  canna’  do  it.  [Aland. J 
Randal,  I  have  asked  Geordie  a  favor,  and  he  has  granted  me.  That 
order,  winna’  the  soldier  that  bears  it  safe  to  the  General  get  advance¬ 
ment? 

Ran.  My  brother  will  win  a  brevet  rank  of  lieutenant. 

Jes.  Na  ;  yourbrither  is  rich  and  can  buy  his  rank,  but  my  Sweenie 
is  puir,  and  Geordie  has  consented  to  let  Sweenie  tak’  his  place  and 
win  his  sergeant’s  stripes. 

Sween.  Oh  Master  Geordie  !  do  you  so  ?  God  bless  ye  !  there’s  not 
a  prouder  boy  in  the  Queen’s  uniform  to-night  than  I  am! 

Geor.  Jessie-!  Jessie! 

Jes.  Diuna’  speak. 

Blount.  [Aside.]  She  puts  her  own  lover  in  the  jaws  of  death !  God 
bless  her!  God  bless  her! 

Ra?i.  it  is  better  so — I  have  other  work  for  Geordie.  Quick  then, 
Sweenie  ;  at  the  copse,  near  the  brook,  my  horse  is  tied  to  a  tree. 
Can  you  ride  ? 

Sween.  1  can  hold  on. 

Ran.  This  letter  to  the  General.  I  will  defend  this  house  till 
becomes  to  relieve  us,  or  we  are  buried  under  its  ruins.  The  alarm 


16 


JESSIE  BROWN. 


guns  which  will  be  fired  from  the  fort  when  your  news  is  known  will 
apprise  us  that  you  are  safe  in  Lucknow,  and  have  escaped.  We  caD 
both  see  the  flash  and  hear  them  from  here.  Away  with  you. 

Jes.  God  be  wi’  ye,  Sweenie.  God  be  wi’  ye  laddie. 

[  Throws  her  arms  round  him. 

Sween.  I’ll  deserve  ye  this  time,  Jessie  ;  ye’ll  be  proud  of  me,  dead 
or  alive.  [Goes  up.  Jessie  falls  on  her  knees. 

Blount.  What  are  you  about?  you  are  not  going  by  that  road,  you 
will  be  seen. 

Sween.  I  know  it — they’ll  fire — ?tis  ten  to  one  they’ll  miss  me  ;  but 
I’ll  fall  into  the  garden  as  if  I  was  shot,  and  while  they  are  thinking 
me  stiff,  I’ll  be  creepin’  down  to  the  horse  and  off  to  Lucknow. 

Ran.  Well,  let  me  see  you  try  it. 

Jes.  Oh  !  my  loov  I  ’tis  for  Geordie’s  sake. 

[Randal  and  Sweenie  go  into  the  balcony. 

Mrs.  C.  But  why  should  Randal  go  ? 

Blount.  To  lead  his  man,  habit. 

[A  shot.  Sweenie  falls  over. — A  cry  from  Jessie* 

Ran.  [ After  watching ,  returns .]  ’Tis  all  right,  he  has  escaped. 

Jes.  But  he  may  be  wounded? 

Ran.  I  think  not,  unless  there  were  two  bullets.  I  have  got  one 
here.  [TaJces  off  his  cap — his  temple  is  bloody. 

Mrs.  C.  Randal ! 

Ran.  Tut!  we  have  other  things  to  do.  [Draws  out  a  handkerchief , 
•presses  his  forehead;  and  replaces  his  cap.]  Now,  Amy,  to  work,  there 
are  but  three  of  us  here.  Geordie,  Cassidy,  and  I. 

Blount.  You  may  say  four!  I  will  lay  aside  my  conscientious  scru¬ 
ples,  and  like  my  namesake,  David,  I  will  strike  the  Philistines. 

Ran.  You  have  three  native  servants,  who,  I  think  may  be  trusted. 
There  are  not  more  than  fifty  Sepoys  on  this  side  of  the  bridge — now  if 
we  can  destroy  that  bridge,  we  shall  divide  our  foes  and  hold  our  own 
or  a  few  hours. 

Blount.  There’s  a  keg  of  powder  down  stairs,  I’ll  take  it  down 
under  my  arm,  and  blow  up  the  bridge.  This  enterprise  is  bloodless, 
it  suits  me  exactly. 

Ran.  You  propose  with  your  form  to  creep  down  unobserved,  you 
would  be  cut  to  pieces. 

Blount.  But  if  the  piece  of  me  that  held  the  keg  got  there,  I  might 
accomplish  the  good  deed.  [Aside.]  I’m  afraid  he  will  send  Geordie. 

Ran.  Geordie,  quick,  you  and  I  will  see  to  this. 

Geor  I  am  ready.  [iftses.  Randal  embraces  Amy. 

Jes.  He’s  ganging,  look,  look,  he  goes  bravely,  the  McGregor  bluid 
is  in  his  cheek,  the  dark  fire  is  lechted. 

Geor.  Bless  you,  Jessie.  [Aside  to  her.]  Sweenie  has  not  been  sacri 
Seed  in  vain.  I’ll  not  belie  your  love,  Jessie,  farewell. 

[Exit  Geordie  and  Raniial. 

Jes.  He’s  gane,  he’s  gane,  baith  ganc — and  Sweenie — and  my  cour 
age  has  gane  too. 

Enter  Alice,  Mary,  and  the  children. 

Alice.  All  is  quiet. 


JESSIE  BROWN. 


n 


Blount.  That’s  a  bad  sign.  But  let  us  extinguish  the  lights,  the} 
serve  the  enemy.  [He  puts  out  the  candle.  Stage 

Mrs.  G.  Oh.  Heaven  protect  us  in  this  dark  hour  of  peril,  preserve 
my  poor  little  children. 

Blount.  Amen? — they  come!  I  see  white  figures  in  the  garden. 

Jts.  My  Sweenie,  have  they  killed  my  poor  Sweenie,  oh  this  sus¬ 
pense  is  worse  than  death. 

Blount.  The  house  is  surrounded,  the  whole  collection  is  here. 

Mrs.  C.  Cassidy,  fire^why  don’t  you  fire  on  them. 

Gas.  [Looking  in.]  Flase  yer  honor  ma’am,  them  savages  is  like 
birds — tirin’  frightens  frightens  them  away,  and  if  we  coax  them  here 
awhile,  sure  they  won't  be  seeing  afther  the  Captain  Randal. 

Blount.  Good  heart,  noble  heart,  oh  Merciful  Father  in  Heaven,  it 
is  a  pity  such  good  people  should  die.  Have  pity  on  us,  have  pity 
on  these  weak  ones,  and  upon  these  little  ones. 

Jes.  Oh  !  protect  my  puir  Sweenie  ;  don’t  let  his  bluid  lie  on  my 
hands —don’t  break  puir  Jessie’s  heart.  [A  distant  explosion.  Alusic. 

Cas.  [ Entering .]  D’ye  hear  that ?  It’s  the  bridge!  the  devils  are 
skelping  back  again  to  see  what  kind  of  hell  is  behind  ’em. 

[Sounds  of  conflict. 

Blount.  They  are  coming  !  I  hear  Randal’s  voice. 

Ran.  Cassidy  !  Cassidy  ! 

Cas.  That’s  me!  here  I  am,  your  honor.  Hoo! 

[Leaps  over  the  balcony  and  disappears. 

Blount.  The  door,  the  door  is  fast  inside.  [Runs  out,  r.  h. 

Jes.  No  alarm  guns  from  the  city!  the  time  is  passed  ;  no  sign  that 
he  has  escaped,  and  I  sent  him,  I  sent  him.  Oh,  Sweenie,  Sweenie  I 

Mrs.  G.  They  come — they  are  safe. 

Enter  Randal,  bearing  Geordie  in  his  arms. 

Ran.  See  to  the  doors. 

Alice.  He  is  dead  ! 

Jes.  Dead!  wha’s  dead?  [&es  Geordie,  and  utters  a  scream  of  grief 
and  horrcrr.']  Geordie,  what  have  ye  done?  ye  have  killed  the  bairn. 
Stand  awa,  a’  o’  ye.  Geordie,  Geordie,  look  to  me.  Oh  !  I  did  it — I 
killed  him  — only  for  me  he  wad  nae  have  gane.  Geordie  !  [£Ae  kisses 
his  face.]  Speak  to  me,  dear!  Ob,  I  shall  go  mad,  Geordie,  if  ye  dae 
not  answer  me — if  ye  do  not  luk  to  me.  [Geordie  raises  himself  at  this 
moment.  A  flash  of  a  gun  is  seen  from  the  distant  city. 

Ran  Ha  !  the  aiarm  gun  from  the  city.  [A  second  gun  is  heard. 

Geor.  Jessie,  Jessie,  do  you  hear  those  guns?  Sweenie  has  escaped 
and  after  a’,  Geordie  is  not  a  coward.  [HefainU. 


END  OF  ACT  I 


18 


JE8SI1  BR0WJT. 


ACT  II. 


SCENE  I. — The  interior  of  a  Hindoo  Temple  in  Lucknow.  J essie  c  hained , 

L.  H.,  to  a  pillar.  Geordie  is  lying  on  a  pallet,  R.  H.,  chained  also. 

Hindoo  Guards  at  the  back.  Achmet,  r.  c.  A  Divan ,  L.  c.  Stage 

sombre.  Music. 

Gear.  [ Awaking .]  Where  am  I  ?  Oh,  these  chains,  those  dark  walls, 
those  darker  faces — I  ana  a  prisoner — why  did  I  awake  ? 

Jes.  Geordie,  dear,  you  are  better  now,  the  fever  has  left  ye. 

Gear.  Jessie,  are  you  there?  come  near  me. 

Jes.  I  can't,  dearie,  the  savages  have  tied  me  like  a  dog  to  the  wall. 

Geor.  What  place  is  this  ? 

Jes.  It's  a  church  where  they  worship  the  deevil. 

Geor.  How  long  have  I  been  here. 

Jes.  For  six  lang  weeks. 

Geor.  Does  the  Residency  still  hold  out  against  the  rebels? 

Jes.  I  dinna  ken.  I  have  been  here  a’  the  time. 

Geor.  Were  you  taken  prisoner  when  I  fell  into  their  hands? 

Jes.  Na !  but  when  we  heard  that  you  were  dying  here,  for  want  of 
Christian  help,  I  cam’  across  to  nurse  ye. 

Geor.  My  poor  girl !  But  they  will  murder  you;  they  show  no  mercy 
for  age  or  sex. 

Jes.  I  knaw  it;  here  is  the  Calcutta  news.  It  is  fu’  o’  the  bluidy 
wark  the  Nana  Sahib  made  at  Cawnpore. 

Enter  Nana. 

Ee  !  talk  o’  the  deevil - 

Nana.  Sahib,  open  your  ears.  Your  countrymen  are  dogs.  They 
still  lie  howling  in  the  Residency — they  dare  not  come  forth — Inshal- 
lab - 

Geor.  They  look  for  aid. 

Nana.  Their  hearts  lie,  and  hope  will  not  feed  them  ;  their  food  is 
out.  they  cannot  live  on  air. 

Jes.  Ye  mistak’ !  they  are  living  on  an  air  noo,  and  is  ca’d,  “  the 
Campbells  are  coomin’.”  And  oh,  could  I  but  hear  one  screel  of  the 
pibroch — could  I  see  the  wavin’  o’  the  bonnie  tartan,  and  the  braw 
line  o’  the  shinin’  steel,  I’d  na  gie  ye  twa  minits,  but  ye’d  find  the 
deevil  before  ye  could  say  “  Cawnpore.” 

Nana  Woman,  be  silent,  read  your  printed  words,  and  leave  men 
to  speak  with  men.  [To  Geordie.]  Your  countrymen  are  in  our  hands. 
Beneath  this  mosque,  even  below  our  feet,  we  have  a  mine,  it  passes 
beneath  the  fort  commanded  by  the  Sahib,  your  brother.  Behold,  the 
powder  is  laid,  the  match  is  ready;  we  can  destroy  him  utterly,  his 
fort  once  taken,  the  Residency  is  ours.  Bismillah  !  have  I  defiled 
my  tongue  with  lies? 

Geor.  The  Ridan  fort  is  the  key  to  our  position 


JESSIE  BROWN.  18 

Nana.  Enough  blood  has  been  shed — let  him  yield — his  men  shall  go 
forth  unharmed,  we  will  pour  the  oil  of  mercy  on  their  wounds. 

Jes.  [Reading  the  paper.']  And  under  these  conditions  Cawnpore  was 
surrendered  ;  the  garrison  marched  out,  and  entered  the  boats  pro¬ 
vided  for  their  safe  transport. 

Nana.  You  say  your  countrymen  still  look  for  aid,  but  they  know 
not  that  the  Sahib  Havelock  was  defeated  by  my  troops.  From 
Lahore  to  Alahabad,  Hindoostan  is  ours;  you  shall  write  these  things 
that  they  may  know  ;~they  will  believe  yonr  word,  and  they  will 
yield,  lnshallah!  they  shall  go  forth  safely  ;  we  will  show  mercy — 
on  my  head  be  it. 

Jes.  [Reads.]  No  sooner  were  the  boats  containing  the  troops,  the 
women  and  children,  in  the  midst  of  the  stream  than  the  enemy 
opened  a  murderous  fire,  and  a  work  of  slaughter  began. 

Nana.  What  woman  is  that?  what  writing  has  she  in  her  hand? 
tear  it  away !  [Achmet  tears  the  paper  from  Jessie.]  What  says  the 
pen  there  ? 

Jes.  [Rising.]  I’ll  tell  ye  in  broad  Scotch.  It  says  that  you  have 
taught  baith  women  and  children  to  fecht,  for  you  have  found  some 
thing  that  they  fear  more  than  death. 

Ach.  What’s  that  ? 

J^s.  The  mercy  of  Nana  Sahib! 

Nana.  Let  my  ferooshees  come  here. 

Enter  two  Hindoos . 

Take  that  woman  and  let  her  die. 

Gear.  Stay,  Rajah,  you  would  not  kill  that  poor  child. 

[At  a  signal  from  Ach  met,  two  coi'ds  descend  from  the  roof. 

JYana.  You  would  have  her  life?  Give  me  the  letter  to  your  bro¬ 
ther  ;  she  herself  shall  bear  it  to  the  Redan  fort.  [They  unbind  Jessie. 

Geor.  That  letter  will  not  serve  you.  You  do  not  know  Randal 
McGregor — he  will  die,  but  will  never  yield. 

Nana.  Be  it  so.  [Rising.]  Achmet,  hew  away  the  right  hands  ot 
these  prisoners,  and  let  their  bodies  swing  from  the  heights  of  this 
mosque. 

Ach.  On  my  head  be  it. 

Jes.  Geordie,  Geordie ! 

Geor.  No,  Nana,  do  not  give  me  the  death  of  a  dog.  Spare  that 
poor  child. 

Nana.  Stifle  the  howling  of  that  houud. 

Jes.  Geordie,  far’weel,  Geordie ! 

Geor.  Hold!  what  would  you  have  me  do? 

Nana.  [Returning.]  Do  you  see  yonder  ropes?  they  ascend  to  the 
minaret  of  this  mosque.  [To  Achmet.]  Prepare  the  means  in  yonder 
room  to  write.  [Exit  Achmet.]  Behold !  write  as  I  have  said  or  give 
your  neck  to  the  cord.  Choose — I  have  spoken. 

Jes.  Ay,  but  you  have  spoken  to  a  McGregor! 

[They  vnbind  Geordie 


Re-enter  Achmet. 


20 


JESEIE  BROWN. 


Geor.  [ Aside .]  One  day  more — aid  may  come.  Havelock,  Ou tram, 
cannot  be  tar. 

Jcs.  [Aside.]  He  hesitates — if  he  pens  that  letter  a’  is  lost  again, 
yet  if  I  speak,  the  deevils  will  murder  me. 

Gear.  [ Aside .]  She  shall  not  die. 

[ Enters ,  r.  h.,  followed,  by  Achmet.  Stage  dark. 
Jes.  [Looking  off,  r.  u.]  He  will  do’t,  to  save  my  life,  he  will  write 
down  his  infamy;  nae  if  I  bear  it  to  the  fort,  I  can  tear  it  up  on  the 
way,  but  then  they  will  kill  him  after  a’,  and  I  ainly  can  be  saved. 
Yonder  he  sits,  he  tak’s  the  pen — his  hand  shakes,  but  still  he  writes, 
he  writes,  oh,  what  are  the  words?  words  of  infamy,  that  will  gae 
hame,  ami  fill  the  faces  of  a*  the  Christian  world  wi’  shame.  Oh, 
could  I  reach  his  heart,  I  cculd  stay  his  hand,  but  that  black  Beelze¬ 
bub  is  wi’  him.  Eh  !  haud  a  wee,  I’ll  speak  to  him.  [Sings. 

“  Oh,  why  left  I  my  hame,”  &c. 

[After  first  verse.']  He  stops,  his  head  fa’s  in  his  hand,  tears,  tears,  he 
minds  me,  he  minds  me.  [SA<? falls  on  her  knees, 

[She  sings  the  2nd  verse.] 

He  knows  what  I  mean  I  [A  portion  of  the  floor  gives  way ,  and  falls  in. 
Ah  !  [Smarts  back.]  What  is  that  ? 

[  Cassidy  puts  his  head  through  the  orifice. 
Cas.  Pooh !  what  a  dust.  Cheu !  [Sneezes.]  That  was  a  big  pinch  of 
snuff  anyway. 

Jes.  Wha’s  that?  ’Tis  Cassidy’s  voice. 

Cas.  I’ll  call  Sweenie  ! 

[  S  weenie's  head  appears  through  the  orifice ,  beside  Cassidy's. 
Jes.  Sweenie ! 

Cas.  Sweenie  ! 

Sween.  What’s  the  matter  ? 

Cas.  Matther!  Bedad  there’s  an  echo  here  thatspakes  first — a  Hin 
doo  echo  that  takes  the  words  out  av  yer  mouth. 

Jes.  Hush,  ’tis  I,  Jessie. 

Sween.  Jessie! 

Cas.  Hoo  !  garry  owen  yer  sowl !  Hurroo ! 

Jcs.  Hush  !  gae  down  quick,  they  are  coomin’. 

[Cassidy  and  Sweenie  disappear,  Jessie  draws  the  nusmud  or  turkish  carpet 

of  the  Divan  over  the  orifice. 

Enter  Achmet  with  a  light. 

Jessie  Sings,  “  My  boy  Tammiel  ”  with  affected  unconcern.  Achmet 
examines  the  place,  holds  the  light  to  her  face,  and  goes  out.  Jessie  with¬ 
draws  the  carpet. 

Jes.  Hush,  silence,  whesper.  [Sweenie  and  CassiPY  re-nppear. 
Cas.  Where  the  divil  are  we  at  all. 

Jes.  This  is  a  mosque,  they  ca’  it.  It  is  my  prison  and  Geordie’s 
How  did  you  get  here? 

Sween.  We  were  working  in  the  counter  mine,  ordered  by  the 
Captain,  when  we  struck  Tight  into  the  mine  prepared  by  the  rebel* 


JESSIE  BROWN. 


21 


to  blow  us  up,  we  removed  their  powder,  of  which  we  were  running 
short,  and  then  Cassidy  and  I  took  a  stroll  along  their  mine,  to  see 
the  country. 

Cas.  The  road  was  mighty  dirty,  but  the  view  at  the  end  of  it,  is 
worth  the  walk. 

Jes.  Then  this  passage  goes  under  ground  to  the  fort. 

Cas.  Bedad,  Sweenie,  we  niver  thought  of  that!  it  comes  this  way, 
but  I  don’t  know  if  it  goes  back  the  same. 

Jes.  D’ye  see  yon  ropes  danglin’  there,  they  are  ready  for  me  and 
Geordie.  Twa  hours  mair,  and  ye’d  been  too  late,  down  wi’  ye  noo, 
don’t  stir,  until  I  tell  ye. 

Cas.  We’ll  be  as  dumb  as  oysthers. 

[They  disappear,  Jessie  replaces  the  carpet. 

Re-enter  the  Nana.  Dnims  without.  Re-enter  Achmet.  Sepoys  enter  at 

back. 

Ach.  A  flag  of  truce  from  the  fort. 

Enter  Randal  and  Blount 

Jes.  The  McGregor! 

Rand.  You  are  the  Nana? 

Nana.  I  am  he. 

Rand.  I  command  the  Redan  fort.  I  come  to  offer  you  an  exchange 
of  prisoners.  We  have  taken  sixty  of  your  men. 

Nana.  They  are  in  your  hand,  Insballah !  Mohammed  Allah ! 
Death  is  their  portion.  To  each  man  his  fate.  [ Exit  Aciimet. 

Rand.  We  light  our  foes,  we  do  not  murder  them. 

Blount.  Stay,  Randal,  don’t  be  so  fiery,  let  me  speak  to  the  Rajah. 
Salam,  Aleikoom ! 

Nana.  Allah,  Resoul  Allah !  speak!  There  is  no  God  but  God,  and 
Mohammed  is  his  prophet. 

Blount.  There  1  can’t  agree  with  you,  and  I  shall  feel  pleased  to  dis¬ 
cuss  that  question  at  any  time  your  leisure  may  permit.  I  am  a 
minister  of  peace  and  a  herald  of  mercy.  Let  me  touch  your  heart. 
Our  Heavenly  Father,  whom  you  call  Allah,  has  given  you  rule  and 
power  over  men  ;  you  have  used  it  so  cruelly,  that  all  the  world  will 
shudder  at  your  deeds  of  blood.  This  girl  came  here  on  a  mission 
of  mercy,  she  is  not  your  prisoner  ;  in  every  religion,  aud  of  all 
time,  the  weakness  of  woman  protects  her  life,  and  makes  her  safety 
sacred. 

Nana.  The  shepherds  from  the  hills  of  the  Himmelayah  came  to 
me  aud  they  said,  Behold  the  tigers  come  out  of  the  jungle  and  prey 
upon  our  flocks,  and  we  fear.  Which  hearing,  I  arose  ;  I  sought  the 
lair  of  the  noble  beast.  I  found  there  the  tigress  and  her  cubs.  I 
slew  them,  until  they  died  ;  but,  lo,  the  tiger  came,  but  did  he  whine 
and  weep,  saying,  Sahib,  you  have  done  evil,  my  mate  and  my  little 
ones  are  sacred,  their  weakness  should  protect  them? 

Blount.  Are  we  tigers? 

Nana.  The  tiger  was  placed  here  by  Allah  ;  he  eats  for  his  hunger, 
and  kills  that  he  may  eat.  Did  Allah  send  the  Briton  here  to  make 
us  slaves,  to  clutch  us  beneath  his  lion's  paw,  and  to  devour  the  land. 


22 


JESSIE  BROWN. 


Inshallah!  The  voiceless  word  of  God  has  swept  over  the  peoplei 
and  it  says,  Sufferers,  arise,  ye  shall  be  free  I 

Ran.  Freedom  was  never  won  by  murder,  for  God  has  never  armed 
the  hand  of  an  assassin. 

Nana.  What,  dogs,  are  you  to  judge  the  ways  of  Allah? 

Enter  Achmet  with  a  letter. 

Has  the  English  prisoner  written  as  I  have  said  ? 

Ach.  ’Tis  done  l 

Jes.  Na,  it  canna  be ! 

Nana.  The  officer,  your  brother,  knowing  the  folly  of  further  resia 
tance,  writes  here  to  you  Sahib,  and  counsels  you  to  yield. 

Jes.  Oh,  I  dar’  na  luk  at  Randal. 

Rand.  [Striding  up  to  Nana.]  You  lie  ! 

Blount.  Randal,  forbear,  perhaps  Geordie  has  been  misled,  deceived  . 

Rand.  Deceit  can  make  a  man  a  fool,  but  not  a  coward. 

Enter  Geordie. 

Gear.  Randal  I 

Rand.  Stand  back  1  Lieutenant  McGregor !  the  Rajah  of  Bithoor 
declares  that  in  this  letter  to  me,  you  have  counseled  to  surrender. 
[A  pause.']  You  are  silent. 

Gear.  Randal,  you  will  forgive  me  when  you  know  all,  but  now 
and  here,  I  dare  not  speak. 

Nana.  The  proud  brow  of  the  Englishman,  our  tyrant,  can  be 
bowed  down  with  shame.  Achmet,  read  the  letter. 

Geor.  No,  no,  not  here. 

Ach.  I  cannot ;  .it’s  in  a  foreign  tongue. 

Blount.  [ Looking  over  it.]  ’Tis  in  Gaelic,  the  native  tongue  of  Scot¬ 
land  ;  I  do  not  understand  it. 

Jes.  Eh !  I  do  ;  let  me  see.  There’s  nae  words  in  Gaelic  that  would 
serve  a  coward’s  tongue.  Let  me  see.  [Music.  She  reads  low.]  Eh; 
sirs,  it  is  pure  Gaelic,  and  rins  so.  [To  Nana.]  Open  yer  lugs,  ye 
deevil,  for  here’s  porridge  for  ye,  hotter  than  ye  can  sup  it,  maybe. 
[Reads.]  To  Captain  Randal  McGregor,  Her  Majesty’s  78th  High¬ 
landers  :  My  dearest  brother,  the  Nana  Sahib  has  doomed  me  to  the 
death  of  a  dog.  My  execution  will  take  place  at  seven  o’clock  ;  you 
can  spare  our  mother  that  grief,  and  me  that  disgrace.  Jessie  will 
point  out  to  you  the  window  of  my  prison — it  looks  over  the  Redan 
fort,  and  is  within  gun-shot  of  our  men.  As  the  clock  strikes  six, 
I  will  be  at  that  window;  draw  out  a  firing  party,  and  let  them 
send  three  honest  volleys  through  my  heart.  God  bless  you  ;  give 
my  love  to  Alice  and  Mary  ;  remember  me  to  all  the  fellows  of  our 
mess — let  them  give  me  a  parting  cheer  when  I  fall.  Your  affec¬ 
tionate  brother,  Geordie  McGregor. 

Ran.  Geordie,  my  brother  1  my  own  brother ! 

Geor.  Randal  l 

Blount.  [Bursting  into  an  ecstacy  of  delight.]  I  can  resist  no  longer 
[<Sfoou/s.]  God  save  the  Queen  l 

[Embraces  Jessie.  Nana  goes  up  with  Achmxt. 

Ran  What  guns  are  those? 


IJESSiE  BR0YTX.  2f 

Nana.  My  artillery  cover  the  advance  of  the  faithful  ou  the  Redan 
fort.  Bind  these  men.  Your  hours  are  numbered. 

Ran.  Traitor  !  we  are  protected  by  a  flag  of  truce. 

Nana.  Your  flag  of  truce  shall  be  your  winding  sheet.  Swing  thei' 
bodies,  to  the  Minaret.  As  the  hour  strikes  seven  let  it  be  done 
[The  Hindoos  seize  Randal,  Geordie  and  Jessie.]  Let  the  old  man  go 
that  he  may  bear  witness  over  all  the  earth,  aDd  strike  white  with 
terror  the  hearts  of  England,  when  they  hear  the  vengeance  of  Nana 
Sahib.  ~ '  [Exit. 

Blount.  Don’t !  Hang  me  too,  hang  me  I  I’ll  be  hung,  if  I  die  for  it. 
Ach.  Slaves,  see  the  Nana’s  order  done,  on  your  heads  be  it.  Ou 
the  stroke  of  seven,  draw  the  ropes!  my  duty  calls  me  to  the  mine. 
The  mine  below  your  countrymen.  In  five  minutes  the  match  will 
be  lighted,  and  from  above  you  will  be  able  to  see  your  soldiers 
blown  to  the  skies. 


[ Exit  Achmet.  The.  Hindoos  having  hound  Randal,  Geordie  and 

Jessie  exeunt. 

Jes.  [Calling.]  S weenie,  Cassidy,  quick. 

[Cassidy  throws  hack  the  carpet. 

Cas.  Here  I  am !  [Appears  in  the  orifice.]  I’m  nearly  choked  wid 
keepin’  the  fight  in  me.  [Jumps  up. 

Blount.  Where  do  you  come  from  ? 

Cas.  From  the  mine,  alanna  !  Sweenie  has  run  down  below  to 
look  afther  the  naygur,  that’s  gone  to  blow  us  up,  he’s  got  a  word  o t 
two  to  say  to  him. 

Ran.  Quick,  cut  these  cords,  the  executioners  hold  the  other  end, 
outside,  and  at  the  stroke  of  seven,  they  will  run  us  up. 

[Cassidt  cuts  the  cords,  aided  by  Blodnt. 

Gear.  Free!  [Embraces  Jessie. 

Biceen.  [At  the  orifice.]  Come  along,  it’s  no  use  kicking. 

Ran.  Sweenie! 

Sween.  All  right  your  honor.  [Salutes  Randal.]  I’ve  got  a  Hindoo 
Guy  Fawkes,  matches  and  lantern  all  complete. 

Cas.  Come  up  asy,  darlint. 

[Sweenie  and  Cassidy  pull  Achmet,  gagged  and  bound,  thro ’  the  orifice. 

Ran.  Secure  that  fellow,  so  that  he  may  not  give  the  alarm. 

Cas.  Never  fear,  Captain.  [  Guns  outside. 

Ran.  The  attack  has  commenced  I  To  the  Redan,  Geordie,  to  the 
Redan.  [Geordie  and  Randal  disappear  down  the  orifice. 

Blount.  Sweenie,  spare  that  man,  shed  no  blood  boys,  do  you 
hear  me. 

Cas.  All  right,  yer  riverence. 

Blount.  Bind  him  fast,  but  let  him  live.  [He  descends. 

Sween.  Here  is  a  rope,  tie  him  with  this. 

[Aciimet  struggles  and  tries  to  speak,  they  throw  him  down. 

Cas.  He’s  as  lively  as  a  cock  salmon.  Hould  quiet  ye  divil,  hei 
try  in’  to  spake. 

Jes.  [Aside.]  That  rope,  they  dinna  ken  what  it  is  there  for. 

Cas.  Tie  him  tight,  and  for  fear  he’d  get  the  gag  out  and  cry 
murdher,  giv  the  rope  a  hitch  round  his  neck. 


14 


JESSIE  BROWN. 


Jes.  Stop,  release  him,  that  cord  is  held  by  the  executioners  out¬ 
side,  and  at  the  stroke  of  seven.  {The  great  dock  of  the  mosque  strikes.] 
Ah,  mercy. 

Gas.  What  is  it? 

[The  body  of  Achmet  is  suddenly  carried  up,  and  disappears  above 
through  the  roof.  Cassidy  and  Sweenie  look  amazed.  Jessie  utters  a 
ery,  and  falls,  hiding  her  face. 

END  OF  ACT  II. 


ACT  III. 

6CENE  I. — The  Redan,  a  fort  commanding  a  certain  part  of  the  City  af 
Lucknow,  and  forming  an  outpost  work ,  near  the  Residency.  A  breast 
work  of  gabions,  fascines,  and  other  military  appliances  embrace  the  stage. 
Through  embrasures  four  pieces  of  artillery  are  placed,  one  of  them  is  dis¬ 
mounted,  as  if  by  a  cannon  ball.  In  the  distance  is  seen  the  encampment 
of  the  rebel  Sepoys,  and  three  forts  similarly  constructed  to  the  Redan,  and 
mounted  with  artillery.  The  scene  generally  bears  marks  of  a  severe  attack , 
both  of  musketry  and  cannonade.  Groups  of  ladies  with  children,  wounded 
soldiers,  on  guard .  and  some  asleep.  Cassidy  smoking  a  pipe,  sits  beside 
Jessie,  who  is  asleep,  her  head  resting  on  his  knapsack,  and  his  grey  coat 
spread  over  her.  Sweenie,  with  his  head  bound  and  wounded ,  leans  on  his 
musket.  Mrs.  Campbell  and  her  two  children  on  the  l.  h.,  a  grey,  cold 
light  thrown  over  the  scene,  indicates  the  dawn  of  day.  Geordie  at  the 
back  is  looking  through  a  field  glass,  examining  the  position  of  the  enemy . 

Mrs.  C.  Geordie.  what  can  you  see  ? 

Geor.  I  can  see  the  road  to  Alumbagh,  from  whence  we  expect  re- 
iisf,  but  there  is  no  sign  of  troops  there. 

Mrs.  C.  Day  after  day  we  hope,  until  hope  itself  dies  away — for 
tl  ree  long  months  we  have  resisted. 

Charlie.  Mamma,  I  am  hungry. 

Mrs.  C.  God  help  you  my  poor  child. 

Geor.  {To  the  men.']  Lads,  here’s  a  little  child  starving,  is  there  a 
crust  among  ye  ? 

Sween.  [  Saluting.]  Not  a  crumb,  your  honor,  except  it’s  in  Phil 
Regan’s  kit,  he  died  an  hour  ago.  There  he  lies.  {Points  off,  r. 
Geor.  Search  and  see.  {Exit  Swhexib. 

Enter  Randal. 

Rand.  What  news  of  the  night? 

Geor.  Nine  men  dead  of  their  wounds.  Six  gone  into  the  hospital. 
Rand.  Inglis  is  hemmed  in — can  scarcely  hold  his  own,  like  us,  can 
scarcely  sustain  himself  from  hour  to  hour.  If  the  columns  of  Gen¬ 
eral  Havelock’s  force  do  not  appear  to-day,  we  must  make  Luck¬ 
now  our  permanent  residence,  Geordie. 

Gx>r.  You  mean  that  you  will  die  at  this  post? 


JESSIE  BROWN. 


26 


[S  weenie  re-enters  with  a  morsel  of  bread ,  and  hands  it  to  Mrs.  Campbell. 

She  gives  it  to  Charlie,  who  is  going  to  eat  it,  but  hesitates ,  breaks  it  in 

half  and  places  one  half  of  it  in  the  hand  of  Effie,  who  still  sleeps ,  then 

the  child  eats. 

Mrs.  C.  How  is  Jessie?  [Geokdie  kneels  beside  Jessie. 

Sween.  She  sleeps,  but  the  long  weeks  of  suffering  has  worn  her 
spirit  out  at  last. 

Rand.  Poor  Jessie,  has  she-too  lost  her  spirits? 

Cas.  Lost  hersperrits!  Bedad,  yer  honor,  the  biggest  keg  of  whis¬ 
key  will  give  out  at  last  if  ye  go  dhrawin’  at  it  ev’ry  ininit,  an 
ftfther  Jessie  cam’  back,  she  tuk  no  rest,  night  or  day,  what  wid  nurse 
tendin’  the  woundid  men,  an’  comfortin’  the  wimmin  an’  childer,  an’ 
cookin’,  an’  kaping  up  the  sperrit  of  the  boys  at  the  guns.  When 
the  hunger  was  in  her  mouth,  she’d  always  have  a  song  in  id  about  the 
ould  counthry  thatwarrum’d  our  hearts,  or  a  gay  word  to  throw  us  in 
passin’  that  ud  fetch  ihe  tear  into  our  eyes.  Lost  her  sperrits,  Oh, 
achone  !  them  sperrits  was  brewed  in  heaven  above,  they  nivir  touched 
the  head  but  the  heart  of  a  man  could  get  dhrunk  upon  ’em. 

Mrs.  C.  Poor  Jessie  !  she  has  been  in  a  state  of  restless  excitement 
through  all  the  siege,  and  has  fallen  away  visibly  during  the  last  few 
days.  A  constant  fever  consumes  her,  and  her  mind  wanders  occa¬ 
sionally,  when  recollections  of  home  seem  powerfully  present  to  her. 
Overcome  by  fatigue,  she  has  lain  there  since  midnight,  wrapped  in 
her  plaid.  Poor  child !  it  is  strange,  liandal,  to  see  those  rough 
men  watch  over  her  with  the  tenderness  and  grief  of  a  mother  over 
r  a  sick  child. 

Enter  Blount. 

Blount.  No  news  of  relief? 

Ran.  None  yet,  but  our  fort  here  is  cut  off  from  the  Residency, 
aud  Colonel  Inglis  may  have  dispatches. 

Blount.  Cheer  up,  lads,  there’s  a  good  time  coming.  The  old  folks 
it  home  will  long  remember  the  defense  of  Lucknow,  and  every  man 
here  will  be  a  hero  in  his  own  native  village. 

Cas.  Except  me,  your  riverence,  divil  native  village  I’ve  got.  1 
was  born  under  a  haystack,  me  father  and  mother  had  crossed  to 
England  for  the  harvest.  Me  mother  died  of  me,  and  me  father  bruk 
his  heart  wid  dbrinkin’,  so  when  they  sent  me  home  to  Ireland,  my 
relations  would’nt  own  me,  bekase  I  was  an  Englishman. 

Blount.  My  good  Cassidy,  hearts  like  yours  are  never  without  a 
home,  while  there  is  goodness  in  earth  and  room  in  Heaven  ! 

Cas.  I’m  content,  sir !  if  Jessie  was  not  sick,  and  I'd  an  ounce  o’ 
baccy,  I  would’nt  call  the  Queen  me  uncle. 

[lie  draws  the  coat  over  Jessie. 

Geor.  Here’s  the  rations  for  the  day. 

[Enter  a  Sergeant ,  with  a  tin  vessel  containing  the  food. 

Ran.  Now,  lads,  there’s  no  bugle  to  call  ye  to  breakfast,  so  fall  in 
and  fall  to.  This  is  the  last  of  our  food,  so  make  it  go  as  far  as  you 
can.  [The  food  is  divided  amongst  the  men.  They  forma  group  and  speak.] 
As  soon  as  the  sun  is  up,  we  shall  have  warm  work.  So  buckle 


r 


26 


JESSIE  BR0W1T. 


your  belts  tight,  f  A  distant  gun.]  There  goes  a  how  d’ye  do  from  the 
rebels. 

Sivten.  [Advancing  and  saluting .]  Please  your  honor,  the  men 
wants  to  know  very  respectfully  sir,  please  if  this  here  ration  is  the 
last  of  our  food,  what’s  the  children  and  ladies  a’  goin’  to  have 
sarved  out. 

Ran  That  is  a  mutinous  question,  sir,  fall  in  your  ranks. 

Stceen.  Ax  your  pardon,  please  sir — the  men  won’t  eat  their 
rations  till  they  know.  They  say  they  would’nt  fight  no  how  sir, 
anyways  comfortable,  if  they  ain’t  allowed  to  share  all  fair  with  the 
women  and  the  little  ’uns. 

Ad  the  men.  Share  alike !  Share  alike  ! 

Ran.  Silence  in  the  ranks!  fall  in,  my  good  lads.  Listen:  for  80 
days  we  have  held  this  fort  against  fifty  thousand  rebels — from  week 
to  week  our  numbers  have  been  thinned  oft‘,  until  we  alone  remain  ; 
a  few  hours  more,  and  General  Havelock  may  arrive,  [a gun,']  but 
those  few  hours  will  be  terrible.  The  rebel  Sepoys  grown  desperate 
by  repulse,  will  try  to  overwhelm  us  wTith  their  whole  force.  [ A  gun.] 
To  preserve  the  loss  of  these  weak  ones,  you  must  have  strength  to 
repel  this  attack.  You  are  starving — the  food  you  eat  is  their  pro 
tection. 

Sween.  Please,  Captain,  the  men  say  they’d  feel  worse  after  such 
a  meal. 

Ran.  Do  as  you  will,  there  is  a  Captain  above  who  commands  your 
hearts.  Break  ranks. 

[7 he  men  hasten  to  the  various  groups  of  women  and  children,  and  divide 

their  rations  with  them. 

Blount.  The  Lord  is  with  us.  His  spirit  is  amongst  us? 

Geor.  [To  Blount.]  Will  you  not  eat,  sir?  [Offering  him  food. 

Blount.  How  can  I,  boy?  my  heart  is  in  my  month,  I  have  food 
enough  in  that.  [To  the  groups.]  Stay,  my  dear  ones!  the  food  is  poor, 
but  let  us  not  forget  Him  who  gave  it.  [Each  person  arrests  his  hand  at 
the  moment  of  eating  ]  God  bless  us,  and  give  us  strength  in  this  dark 
hour  of  our  lives !  [Jessie  wakes. 

.Jes.  I’m  cauld — I’m  verracauld. 

Cas.  Cowld,  darlin  !  sure  it’s  September,  and  as  hot  as  blazes — the 
Lord  be  praised. 

Mrs.  C.  Jessie,  are  you  better?  [Jessii  looks  round  eagerly. 

Jes.  I  maun  get  my  father’s  breakfast;  the  gmle  man  will  be  bock 
soon  frae  the  field. 

Cas.  What  is  she  talking  about? 

Sween.  Eat,  Jessie  dear — we  have  kept  your  ration  till  you  awoke. 

Jes.  Eat!  na — ah!  [rejects  the  bread]  dinna  ye  see?  there’s  bluid 
upon  it ! 

Cas.  Blood ! 

Geor.  Jessie! 

Mrs.  C.  Jessie?  [Crosses  hastily  to  her.]  Jessie,  you  are  ill.  Look  at 
me  speak  to  me — -do  you  not  know  me  9  [Kneels  beside  her. 

Jes.  Knaw  ye!  knaw  ye!  Nae,  but  I  ken  a  bonnie  song — a  song 
ot  Scotland — it’s  made  o'  heather  and  bluebells,  woven  in  a  tartan, 
and  it  is  so  gladsome  that  it  maks  me  weep. 


JESSIE  BROWN. 


27 


Mrs  C.  Randal,  Randal,  her  senses  have  gone- -her  mind  wanders. 

Clatr.  Jessie,  my  own  Jessie  !  don't  look  so. 

Jes.  We’ll  gang  harae.  Coom  to  me — what’s  yer  name? 

Char.  Charlie  Fergus  Campbell. 

Jes.  Then  ye’ar  Scotch — Scotch  to  the  core  of  the  heart.  Listen. 

|  Sings. 

“  In  winter,  when  the  rain  rained  cauld,”  Ac. 

Sicten.  Jessie,  Jessie  dear?  don’t  you  know  me?  Sweenie. 

Jes.  Sweenie!  where  is  he  ?  He’ll  be  outside  the  Byre,  doon  by 
the  gates.  After  melkin  the  coos,  I’ll  coom  t’ye  my  lad.  I’ll  steal 
away  to  the  trystin,  Sweenie.  Fear  nought.  [Sings. 

“Oh,  whistle  and  I’ll  come  to  yer,  my  lad/’&c. 

Ran.  Do  not  weep,  Amy.  She  is  happier  so — and  if  we  fail  in  re¬ 
pulsing  the  rebels  to-day,  or  if  we  are  not  relieved  by  sundown,  hei 
madness  will  be  a  blessing — she  will  be  insensible  to  her  fate. 

Mrs.  C.  Has  the  last  hour  come,  Randal  ? 

[Three  guns  are  heard  in  quick  succession. 

Ran.  Hark  !  the  batteries  are  opening  their  fire.  Fall  in,  men. 
Geordie,  repel  any  advance  by  the  left.  I  will  hold  the  front. 

Cos.  [  Who  has  been  looking  over  the  back .]  Plase  your  honor,  here 
come  the  black  divils — they’re  upon  us. 

Ran.  Steady  men,  no  hurry. — Sweep  them  down. — Forward! 

[  Exit  R.u.fi.  with  men  Music.  Exit  Geordie  l.  with  men.  Sounds  of 
musketry — cannon  outside — drums. 

Blount.  To  your  knees! — to  your  knees! — and  pray! — this  hour 
may  be  our  last.  Oh,  if  my  scruples  did  not  weigh  so  heavily  upon 
me,  I  could  strike  for  my  country.  [Takes  out  a  book. 

Jes.  [  Who  has  been  recovering  her  senses ,  as  she  listens  to  the  conflict ,  at 
first  with  surprise,  then  with  awakening  comprehension.']  Ah  !  I  mind  it 
all — I  am  awak  !  where’s  Sweenie? 

Blount.  Let  me  read  aloud  to  you,  the  words  of  peace  and  comfort. 
[Jessie  turns  and  sees  the  heads  of  some  of  the  Sepoys  at  the  embrasures, 
two  of  them  are  trying  to  escalade  the  breastwork.]  Look  !  look  !  they  come  ! 

[The  women  utter  a  cry  of  dismav. 

Blount.  The  enemy !  [Pockets  the  book,  and  seizes  a  gun  rammer.]  .a 
the  name  of  the  Lord  aud  of  Gideon !  [He  advances  to  the  back.  The 
two  wounded  soldiers  rise,  and  crawl  to  the  guns.  Jessie  runs  to  a  bomb¬ 
shell,  that  lies,  h.  n.,  and  finding  Cassidy’s  pipe  where  he  has  thrown  it 
still  alight,  she  lights  the  fuse,  and  carries  it  with  great  difficulty  to  the  breast¬ 
work,  toppling  it  over.  Blount  standing  on  the  disabled  gun,  deals  pon¬ 
derous  blows  right  and  left,  with  the  rammer,  and  knocks  over  the  Sepoys  as 
they  appear.  The  two  wounded  soldiers,  Jessie,  Alice  and  Mrs.  Camp¬ 
bell.  draw  out  the  other  gun,  load  it,  and  run  it  in  xgain.  The  bomb  is 
heard  to  explode  outside,  folloived  by  cries  and  hurrahs.  Mrs.  Campbell 
applies  a  port  fire  to  the  gun,  and  fires  it.  Another  shout.  Jessie  leaps  on 
the  gun.  The  children  bring  hand  grenades,  and  roll  in  a  cannon  ball. 
Randal  and  Geordie  re-appear,  r.  and  L.,  leading  back  their  men,  some 
wounded.  Groups  are  formed.  The  ladies  tear  their  dresses  and  make  ban¬ 
dages  for  the  wounded  soldiers. 


JESSIE  BROWN. 


^8 


Rand.  Well  done,  bravely  done !  The  enemy  is  repulsed,  it  wats 
not  work. 

Blount.  Hot !  It  was  terrible  !  I’m  afraid  I  have  killed  somebody. 
I  fear  I  have  sent  a  sinner  to  his  last  account  up  there.  [. Points  up. 

Gas.  [ Taking  his  arm  and  making  him  point  it  down.]  No,  that's  the 
way  they  wint.  Bedad  but  ye  made  that  shillelah  dance  like  over 
their  heads— they  wint  do\*i  by  dozens — it  was  illegant. 

Blount.  I’ll  have  to  answer  for  this  hereafter. 

Gas.  Oh,  make  yer  mind  asy  !  Damn  the  question  ye’ll  ivir  be 
axed  about  it. 

Geor.  Who  sent  that  bomb,  it  fell  into  their  advancing  column  and 
exploded  with  terrible  effect? 

Mrs.  G.  ’Twas  Jessie. 

Sween. 


Gas. 

Rand. 

Geor. 


Jessie ! 


[  They  look  round,  Jessie  is  discovered  crying  bitterly ,  seated  on  the  breast¬ 
work.  They  bring  her  forward. 

Mrs.  G.  Jessie,  what  ails  you  ?  why  do  you  weep  ?  \_To  the  rest.]  1 
never  saw  her  cry  before. 

Alice.  Dearest  Jessie,  are  you  wounded  ? 

Jes.  Na,  na,  but  I  canna  help  it.  The  clouds  in  my  brain  are 


pourin’  oot,  an’ — an’ — an- 


[  Falls  into  hysterics. 


Alice.  She  is  weak,  poor  child,  hunger  and  fear  have  killed  her. 

Blount.  No!  this  spasm  of  tears  relieves  her  overburthened  brain — 
she  will  recover. 

Mrs.  G.  Leave  her  to  Alice  and  me. 

Char.  Jessie,  dear,  don’t  ’ee  cry,  don’t  cry. 

[Jessie  embraces  the  children. 

Rand.  [ Taking  Blount  and  Geordik  aside.]  We  have  repulsed  the 
first  attack,  but  the  enemy  is  too  strong  for  us,  they  will  try  a  second 
and  a  third — we  have  now  ouly  20  men  left  — their  next  attack  will 
succeed. 

Blount.  God's  will  be  done.  Let  us  thank  Him  that  we  are  pre^ 
pared  to  die.  Yes,  it  is  with  joyful  thaukfulness  that  I  say  it.  Thera 
is  not  one  human  being  here,  that  has  not  shewn  a  noble,  beautiful 
and  Christiau  spirit,  except  me.  I  have  been  led  away.  The  shep¬ 
herd  has  killed  his  flock. 

Rand.  No,  he  has  only  driven  the  wolf  away. 

Blount.  Let  us  hope  that  it  may  be  forgiven  me.  Now  what  shall 
we  do. 


Geor.  Alice,  Amy,  and  Jessie,  must  they  fall  into  the  hands  ot 
these  wretches?  Oh,  Randal,  remember  Cawnpore  ! 

Blount.  Let  them  decide.  Let  them  know  the  worst,  that  thej 
may  prepare  to  meet  their  fearful  fate. 

Rand.  I  cannot  speak  it.  1  can  face  the  enemy,  but  I  cannot  loo'u 
into  the  pale  faces  of  those  women  and  tell  them  that  my  arm  it 
powerless  to  defend  their  honor  and  their  lives. 

[Goes  up  and  seals  himself  dejectedly  on  a  gun  carriage. 


JESSIE  BROWX. 


n 

BlowU.  This  is  my  mission.  I  will  speak  to  them  \  heaven  ins*  ^es 
me  with  courage!  Geordie,  tell  me  when  the  last  moment  is  come. 
[Sits,  r.  n.,  and  takes  out  hi*  book.]  Let  me  know  when  our  death  is 
near. 

Mrs.  C.  Her  temples  throb  and  burn.  My  poor  Jessie,  lie  down 
awhile  and  rest  your  head  in  my  lap. 

Geor.  [Near  Blount.]  What  are-you  reading  ? 

Blount.  [Looking  up.]  The  prayers  for  the  dead! 

[Geordie  goes  up,  and  leans  on  the  breastwork.  The  men  are  reposing  in 

groups. 

Alice.  How  she  trembles  her  hands  are  icy  cold. 

Mrs.  C.  Jessie,  are  you  cold? 

Jes.  [Sings  in  a  low  voice.] 

“  In  winter,  when  the  rain  rained  cauld,”  Ac. 

Alice.  Her  senses  wander  again. 

Mrs.  C.  Jessie,  my  dear  Jessie!  try  to  rest  your  wearied  brain — try 
to  sleep. 

Jes.  Sleep !  Aye,  let  me  sleep  awee— but  you  will  awak  me  when 
my  father  cooms  frae  the  ploughin’. 

Airs.  C.  Yes,  Jessie,  when  the  gude  man  comes  home,  I  will  awake 
you.  [Aside.]  God  help  her  ! 

Jes.  I’m  his  ainly  bairn,  and  he  loos  me  well.  [Sings  slowly  the  first 
few  bars  of  “ Robin  Gray as  she  falls  to  sleep. 

Geor.  [Advancing  to  Blount.[  The  enemy  are  moving,  sir — the  time 
has  come. 

Blount.  [  Closing  the  book.]  I  am  ready. 

[Rises.  Distant  drum  is  heard ,  very  low. 

Ran.  The  enemy  !  Fall  in,  men  ! 

[Eight  men  rise,  and  form  with  Sweenie  and  Cassidy — Randal  counts  them. 

Ran.  Ten!  ten  men  alone  are  tit  for  service — ten  men  to  repulse  a 
thousand !  [Turns  asids. 

Blount.  My  gentle  friends — to  you,  weak  in  body  but  so  strong  in 
soul,  I  speak.  It  is  fitting  that  you  should  know  that  the  last  hour 
has  arrived.  [  Drums.  A  gun.]  The  last  earthly  hope  is  gone — let  us 
address  ourselves  to  heaven. 

Alice.  Will  these  men  desert  us  ? 

Blount.  In  an  hour  not  one  of  those  men  will  be  living. 

Mrs.  C.  But  we  shall  be  living.  Oh.  recollect  Cawnpore  !  these 
children  will  be  hacked  to  pieces  before  our  eyes — ourselves  reserved 
for  worse  than  death,  and  then  mutilated,  tortured,  butchered  in  cold 
blood.  Randal,  will  you  see  this  done — will  you  not  preserve  us 
from  this  fate.  [Alice  weeps  on  Geordie  s  breast. 

Ran.  Amy,  my  heart  is  broken.  What  can  we  do? 

Mrs.  C.  Kill  us.  Put  us  to  a  merciful  death  ere  you  fall.  Ob, 
Randal,  do  not  turn  away  from  me — think  of  the  fate  reserved  for 
her  you  love.  Oh,  death,  death  !  a  thousand  times  death  !  You  are 
going  to  die — take  us  with  you,  Randal  ;  if  you  leave  us  here, 
you  are  accessories  to  our  dishonor  and  our  murder. 

Blount.  They  come,  they  come — already  they  begin  to  ascead  tht 

bill. 


30 


JESSIE  BROWN. 


Alice.  Geordie. 

Mrs.  C.  Quick,  or  it  will  be  too  late.  Quick,  Randal — oh,  remem¬ 
ber  we  are  cowards — we  are  women  and  we  may  not  have  the  courag* 
to  kill  ourselves. 

Ran.  I  cannot,  Amy,  I  cannot. 

Mrs.  C.  Lend  me  your  dirk,  then.  Rather  than  see  my  children 
mutilated,  tortured,  they  shall  die.  God  will  forgive  a  mother 
when  her  children  plead  for  her. 

Blount.  They  are  here,  Randal — they  are  here. 

Ran.  Murderers!  they  come  for  their  prey.  [ Dashing  down  hi* 
bonnet.']  Yes,  I  will  tear  it  from  their  rage.  Soldiers,  one  vol¬ 
ley — your  last — to  free  your  countrywomen  from  the  clutches  of 
the  demons.  One  volley  to  their  noble  and  true  hearts,  and  then 
give  your  steel  to  the  enemy.  Load. 

[The  soldiers  bite  off  the  ends  of  their  cartridges  and  load  their  muskets.  Tht 

women  cast  themselves  into  each  other's  arms  and  form  a  group. 


Blount.  [ Begins  to  read  the  service  for  the  dead.]  In  the  midst  of  life 
*e  are  in  death. 

[  A  distant  wail  of  the  bagpipes  is  heard.  Jessie  starts  from  her  sleep. 
Ran  Shoulder  arms.  Ready  ! 


[. Another  wail  of  the  pipes  is  heard. 

Jes.  Ah!  [Utters  a  cry.]  Hark — hark — dinna  ye  hear  it?  dinna  ye 
hear  it?  Ay!  I’m  no  dreamin’,  it’s  the  slogan  of  the  Highlanders! 
we’re  saved — we’re  saved!  [ Throws  herself  on  her  knees.]  Oh,  than! 
God  !  whose  mercy  never  fails  the  strong  in  heart,  and  those  tha\ 
trust  in  him. 

Ran.  Relief!  no!  it  is  impossible  I  [ Guns  outside. 

Jes.  I  heard  it!  I  heard  it! 

Geor.  Here  comes  the  enemy  I 

Jes.  To  the  guns,  men,  to  the  guns!  Courage!  Hark!  to  the 
slogan.  ’Tis  the  slogan  of  the  McGregor,  the  grandest  of  them  a’ 
There’s  help  at  last.  Help!  d’ye  hear  me?  help  I 

Ran.  There  is  no  signal  from  the  Residency.  Jessie,  your  ears 
deceive  you. 

Mrs.  C.  She  is  mad ! 


Jes.  I  am  not  daft,  my  Scotch  ears  cau  hear  it  far  awa’.  [ Bagpipes 
sound  nearer.]  There  again — there — will  ye  believe  it  noo — d’ye  hear 
— d’ye  hear?  the  Campbells  are  cornin’! 

[The  Bagpipes  swell  out  louder ,  but  still  distant.  Distant  musketry  is  heard 

to  roll.  Shouts  l 

Geor.  See,  the  flag  runs  up  at  the  Residency.  ’Tis  true. 

[  Cannonade. 

Ran.  To  arms!  men!  One  charge  more,  and  this  time  drive  your 
*teel  down  the  throats  of  the  murderous  foe.  [Musketry. 

Jes.  Ha!  they  coom !  they  coom !  yonder  is  the  tartan.  Oh!  the 
bonnie  Highland  plaid.  [$/te  waives  her  tartan  plaid.]  You  have  nae 
forgotten  us. 

fTTie  pipes  here  change  the  air  to  “  Should  Auld  Acquaintance  be  For  gat  f 


JESSIE  BROWN.  3] 

D’ye  hear!  d’ye  hear.  “Should  Auld  Acquaintance  be  Forgot,”  1*00 
lad?,  here  come  the  rebels.  It  will  be  yer  last  chauce  at  them. 

[N/<e  leaps  down. 

Ran.  Steady  lads!  [The  Sepoys  appear  at  the  hack. 

All.  Hurrah! 

[ They  dash  up  the  breast  work  and  after  firing,  club  their  guns  and 
disappear  fighting ,  driving  the  Sepoys  down.  Shouts  and,  musketry 
and  cannonade ,  grow  furious.  The  back  scene  is  covered  with  a 
red  glow;  explosions,  as  from  mines ,  are  heard,  through  all  oj 
which  the  bagpipes  continues,  now  very  loud  and  near.  The  Hin¬ 
doos  appear  fighting ,  and  driven  in  at  the  back.  They  fall  over 
the  breast  work ;  Randal  and  the  Highlanders,  with  their  piper , 
charge  up  the  breastwork  and  crown  it  in  every  direction,  bearing 
down  the  Sepoys  with  the  bayonet.  Geordie  and  his  men  enter  l. 
h.  Cassidy  and  Sweenie  from  r.  h.,  with  others  of  the  men,  face 
those  of  the  Sepoys,  who  are  driven  aver  by  the  Highlanders. 

TABLEAU. 


Note  from  the  Author. — The  powerful  incident  with  which  this 
drama  concludes,  incited  me  to  construct  the  domestic  fiction  con¬ 
tained  in  the  first  and  second  acts.  Its  dramatic  value  I  had  seen 
tested  by  Mr.  Everett,  on  an  audience  at  the  Academy  of  Music, 
rendered  breathless  and  hysterical  by  the  sweet  power  of  his  pathetic 
lescription.  Yet  the  task  of  dramatising  the  subject  might  have 
oeen  abandoned  had  I  not  possessed,  in  my  own  wife,  a  representative 
for  the  character  of  Jessie  Brown,  singularly  adapted  to  its  realiza¬ 
tion.  Her  Scottish  blood  warmed  to  the  subject ;  her  Scotch  dialect, 
and  her  power  of  delineating  Highland  character,  assured  mo  that 
the  central  figure  of  my  dramatic  group  would  be  faithfully  rendered. 
I  hope  that  in  the  treatment  of  this  pretty  subject,  the  reader  may 
Qnd  I  have  not  injured  the  beautiful  sentiment  of  the  original  tale. 

DION  BOURCICAULT. 


The  following  account  is  taken  from  the  letters  of  a  lady,  one  of  the  rescued  on 
the  26th  September,  when  Lucknow  was  relieved  by  the  forces  under  Sir  Co'in 
Campbell: 

“  Death  stared  us  in  the  fa-oe.  We  were  fully  persuaded  that  in  twenty-four  hours 
all  would  be  over.  The  engineers  had  said  so,  and  all  knew  the  worst.  We  women 
strove  to  encourage  each  other,  and  to  perform  the  light  duties  which  had  been  as¬ 
signed  to  us,  such  as  conveying  orders  to  the  batteries  and  supplying  the  men  with 
provisions,  especially  cups  of  coffee,  which  we  prepared  day  and  night.  I  had  gone 
out  to  try  and  make  myself  useful,  in  company  with  Jessie  Brown.  Poor  Jessie  had 


32 


JESSIE  BROWN. 


oeee  in  a  state  of  restless  excitement  all  through  the  siege,  and  had  f&ilan  cwaj 
visibly  within  the  last  lew  days.  A  constant  lever  consumed  her,  and  her  mind 
wandered  occasionally,  especially  on  that  day,  when  the  recollections  of  home 
seemed  powerfully  present  to  her.  At  last,  overcome  with  fatigue,  she  lay  down  on 
the  ground,  wrapped  up  in  her  plaid.  I  sat  beside  her,  promising  to  awaken  her 
when,  as  she  said,  “  her  father  should  return  from  the  ploughing.”  She  at  length 
fell  into  a  profound  slumber,  motionless  and  apparently  breathless,  her  head  resting 
in  my  lap.  I  myself  could  no  longer  resist  the  inclination  to  sleep,  in  spite  of  the 
continual  roar  of  cannon.  Suddenly  I  was  aroused  by  a  wild,  unearthly  scream 
close  to  my  ear ;  my  companion  stood  upright  beside  me,  her  arms  raised  and  her 
head  bent  forward  in  the  attitude  of  listening.  A  look  of  intense  delight  broke  over 
her  countenance,  she  grasped  my  hand,  drew  me  towards  her,  and  exclaimed, 
“  Dinna  ye  hear  it  ?  dinna  ye  hear  it  ?  Ay,  I’m  no  dreamm’ ;  its  the  slogan  o’  the 
Highlanders  I  We’re  saved,  we’re  saved !  ”  Then,  flinging  herself  on  her  knees,  she 
thanked  God  with  passionate  fervor.  I  felt  utterly  bewildered;  ray  English  ears 
heard  only  the  roar  of  artillery,  and  I  thought  my  poor  Jessie  was  still  raving,  but 
she  darted  to  the  batteries,  and  I  heard  her  cry  incessantly  to  the  men,  “  Courage  1 
hark  to  the  slogan —to  the  Macgregor,  the  grandest  oi  them  a’ !  Here’s  help  at  last.’* 
To  describe  the  effect  of  these  words  upon  the  soldiers  would  be  impossible.  For  a 
moment  they  ceased  firing,  and  every  soul  listened  in  intense  anxiety.  Gradually, 
however,  there  arose  a  murmur  of  bitter  disappointment,  and  the  wailing  of  the 
women  who  had  flocked  out  began  anew  as  the  Colonel  shook  his  head.  Our  dull 
lowland  ears  heard  nothing  but  the  rattle  of  the  musketry.  A  few  moments  more  of 
this  deathlike  suspense,  of  this  agonising  hope,  and  Jessie,  who  had  again  sunk  on 
the  ground,  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  cried  in  a  voice  so  clear  and  piercing  that  it  was 
heard  along  the  whole  line — “Will  ye  no  believe  it  noo?  The  slogan  has  ceased, 
indeed,  but  the  Campbells  are  cornin’.  D’ye  hear,  d’ye  hear  ?  ”  At  that  moment  we 
seemed  indeed  to  hear  the  voice  of  God  in  the  distance,  when  the  bagpipes  of  the 
Highlanders  brought  us  tidings  of  deliverance,  for  now  there  was  no  longer  any 
doubt  of  the  fact.  That  shrill,  penetrating,  ceaseless  sound,  which  rose  above  at 
other  sounds,  would  come  neither  from  the  advance  of  the  enemy  nor  from  the  work 
of  the  Sappers.  No,  it  was  indeed  the  blast  of  the  Scottish  bagpipes,  now  shrill  anc. 
harsh,  as  threatening  vengeance  on  the  foe,  then  in  softer  tones,  seeming  to  promise 
Buccor  to  their  friends  in  need.  Never  surely  was  there  such  a  scene  as  that  which 
followed.  Not  a  heart  in  the  Residency  of  Lucknow  but  bowed  itself  before  God. 
All,  by  one  simultaneous  impulse,  fell  upon  their  knees,  and  nothing  was  heard  bu 
bursting  sobs  and  the  murmured  voice  of  prayer.  Then  all  arose,  and  there  rang 
out  from  a  thousand  lips  a  great  shout  of  joy  which  resounded  far  and  wide,  and 
lent  new  vigor  to  that  blessed  bagpipe.  To  our  cheer  of  “  God  save  the  Queen  1” 
they  replied  in  the  well-known  strain  that  moves  every  Scot  to  tears. “  Should  auid 
acquaintance  be  forgot,”  &c.  After  that  nothing  else  made  any  impression  on  ne 
I  tfoarcely  remember  what  followed.” 


*81  BVB, 


THE  REJUVENATION  OF  AUNT  MARY. 

e  famous  comedy  in  three  acts,  by  Anne  Warner.  7  males,  2 
es.  Three  interior  scenes.  Costumes  modern.  Plays  2*4  hours. 

is  is  a  genuinely  funny  comedy  with  splendid  parts  for  “Aunt  Mary,'’ 
”  her  lively  nephew;  “Lucinda,”  a  New  England  ancient  maid  of  all  work; 
s”  three  chums;  the  Girl  “Jack”  loves;  “Joshua,”  Aunt  Mary’s  hired 
itc. 

unt  Mary”  was  played  by  May  Robson  in  New  York  and  on  tour  for  over 
ears,  and  it  is  sure  to  be  a  big  success  wherever  produced.  .  We  strongly 

pend  it.  Price*  60  Cen*S. 


MRS.  BUMSTEAD-LEIGH. 


pleasing  comedy,  in  three  acts,  by  Plarry  James  Smith,  author  of 
Tailor-Made  Man.”  6  males,  6  females.  One  interior  scene.  Cos- 
»  modern.  Plays  2^4  hours. 


■  Smith  chose  for  his  initial  comedy  the  complications  arising  from  the 
r'ors  of  a  social  climber  to  land  herself  in  the  altitude  peopled  by  hyphenated 
— a  theme  permitting  innumerable  complications,  according  to  the  spirit  ot 

inmost  successful  comedy  was  toured  for  several  seasons  by  Mrs.  Fiske 
mormons  success.  Pnce'  60  Cent8‘ 


MRS.  TEMPLE’S  TELEGRAM. 


most  successful  farce  in  three  acts,  by  Frank  Wyatt  and  William 
is.  5  males,  4  females.  One  interior  scene  stands  throughout  the 
acts.  Costumes  modern.  Plays  2 hours. 


[rs.  Temple’s  Telegram”  is  a  sprightly  farce  in  which  there  is  an  abund- 
of  fun  without  any  taint  of  impropriety  or  any  element  of  offence.  As 
d  by  Sir  Walter  Scott,  “Oh,  what  a  tangled  web  we  weave  when  first  we 

Se^s^Tdull  moment  in  the  entire  farce,  and  from  the  time  the  curtain 

until  it  makes  the  final  drop  the  fun  is  fast  and  furious.  A  very  exceptional 

Price.  uU  LentSo 


THE  NEW  CO-ED. 


l  comedy  in  four  acts,  by  Marie  Doran,  author  of  Tempest  and 
;hine,”  etc.  Characters,  4  males,  7  females,  though  any  number  of 
and  girls  can  be  introduced  in  the  action  of  the  play.^  One  interior 
one  exterior  scene,  but  can  be  easily  played  in  one  interior  scene, 
umes  modern.  Time,  about  2  hours. 


e  theme  of  this  play  is  the  coming  of  a  new  student  to  the  college,  her 
ion  by  the  scholars,  her  trials  and  final  triumph. 

tere  are  three  especially  good  girls  parts,  Letty,  Madge  and  Estelle,  but 
thers  have  plenty  to  do.  “Punch”  Doolittle  and  George  Washington  Watts, 
itleman  of  color,  are  two  particularly  good  comedy  characters.  We  can 

sly  recommend  “The  New  Co-Ed”  to  high  schools  and  amateurs. 

5  J  Prtpp  Ml  I  .entS. 


(The  Above  Are  Subject  to  Royalty  When  Produced) 


SAMUEL  FRENCH,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York  City 

New  and  Explicit  Descriptive  Catalogue  Mailed  Free  on  Request 


DOROTHY’S  NEIGHBORS. 

A  brand  new  comedy  in  four  acts,  by  Marie  Doran,  author  © 
New  Co-Ed,”  “Tempest  and  Sunshine,”  and  many  other  successfu 
4  males,  7  females.  The  scenes  are  extremely  easy  to  arrange ;  tw 
interiors  and  one  exterior,  a  garden,  or,  if  necessary,  the  two  h 
will  answer.  Costumes  modern.  Plays  V/z  hours. 

'The  story  is  about  vocational  training,  a  subject  now  widely  discusse 
the  distribution  of  large  wealth.  .  \ 

Back  of  the  comedy  situation  and  snappy  dialogue  there  is  good  lo 
a  sound  moral  in  this  pretty  play,  which  is  worthy  the  attention  of  the 
enced  amateur.  It  is  a  clean,  wholesome  play,  particularly  suited  to  higl 
production.  Price,  3( 


MISS  SOMEBODY  ELSE. 

A  modern  play  in  four  acts  by  Marion  Short,  author  of  “The  1 
down,”  etc,  6  males,  10  females.  Two  interior  scenes.  Costume: 
ern.  Plays  2%  hours. 

^  This  delightful  comedy  has  gripping  dramatic  moments,  unusual  cl 
types,  a  striking  and  original  plot  and  is  essentially  modern  in  theme  am 
ment.  The  story  concerns  the  adventures  of  Constance  Darcy,  a  multi- 
aire’s  young  daughter.  Constance  embarks  on  a  trip  to  find  a  young  m 
had  been  in  her  father’s  employ  and  had  stolen  a  large  sum  of  mone 
almost  succeeds,  when  suddenly  all  traces  of  the  young  man  are  lost, 
point  she  meets  some  old  friends  who  are  living  in  almost  want  and,  in  c 
assist  them  through  motives  benevolent,  she  determines  to  sink  her  own 
cratic  personality  in  that  of  a  refined  but  humble  little  Irish  waitress  v 
family  that  are  in  want.  She  not  only  carries  her  scheme  to  success  in  a 
the  family,  but  finds  romance  and  much  tense  and  lively  adventure  dur 
period  of  her  incognito,  aside  from  capturing  the  young  man  who  had  de 
her  father.  The  story  is  full  of  bright  comedy  lines  and  dramatic  situatb 
is  highly  recommended  for  amateur  production.  This  is  one  of  the  besi 
dies  we  have  ever  offered  with  a  large  number  of  female  characters.  The  < 
is  bright  and  the  play  is  full  of  action  from  start  to  finish;  not  a  dull  mo 
it.  This,  is  a  great  comedy  for  high  schools  and  colleges,  and  the  wh 
story  will  please  ihe  parents  and  teachers,  We  strongly  recommend  it. 

Price,  3 


PURPLE  AND  FINE  LINEN. 

An  exceptionally  pretty  comedy  of  Puritan  New  England,  if 
acts,  by  Amita  B.  Fairgrieve  and  Helena  Miller.  9  male,  5  femal 
acters. 

This  is  the  Lend  A  Hand  Smith  College  prize  play.  It  is  an  admiral 
for  amateurs,  is  rich  in  character  portrayal  of  varied  types  and  is  not  toQ 
while  thoroughly  pleasing.  Price,  3' 

(  (The  Above  Are  Subject  to  Royalty  When  Produced) 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York  City 

New  and  Explicit  Descriptive  Catalogue  Mailed  Free  on  Requci 


